You might have an image in your head directly related to your OWN Grandparents. They are almost always ancient. Wrinkles and gray hair (or no hair at all!) and polyester clothes. Those are the Grandparents of yesteryear.
I am 38, my husband is 42. We are proud Grandparents. Our Grandson, Travis, is the most amazingly wonderful child ever born. Between the two of us, we have 4 daughters, ages 21, 18, 17, and 15. The 18 year old (Rebecca) was the one who blessed us with Travis.
We are relatively young to be Grandparents. We take baby out and people usually think he's our child. It makes us laugh, and we generally shock people when we tell them the truth.
Was my husband happy at first? Um, not even a little. He couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that his BABY was going to have a baby of her own. He was in general denial, right up until about the last month. By then, it was baby watch. Timing false labor. All baby talk, all the time. Even then, I don't think he was overjoyed at the prospect of being Grandpa. It made him feel old, even though he isn't. He had that same image most people get stuck in their head. He wasn't ready for it.
Then we got the call. Real labor this time. So we went to the hospital. We sat and waited for hours. We ate. We paced. We read every magazine in the building. I think my husband at that point was just worried for Rebecca. Was she ok? Was she in alot of pain? You don't ever want your children to feel anything but happiness. Then is was 3:54 p.m. And HE was here. The little guy. The Grandson.
Of course, we descended upon the room, me, my husband, his parents, Rebecca's mom and stepmother (we have quite a unique, blended family!) We all took turns holding him, cooing, kissing Rebecca, telling her how awesome he was and what a great job she did, and how beautiful she looked. And my husband kind of sat in the corner, with his father. And they just watched. Then it was their turn, and they looked terrifed, like most men do at the prospect of holding a tiny crying creature. My Father-in-Law took his turn. For about 10 seconds. The baby was just too little. So, he turned to his son, my husband, and said, "O.k., Grandpa, it's your turn!"
Mu husband took the baby, and I helped him get comfortable with him. That's when it happened. I watched with the rest of the room as my husband fell hopelessly and desperately in love with his Grandson. His eyes teared up and he just stared at the baby. His Grandson. Flesh of his flesh. The child of his child. I watched about 20 different emotions pass over his face. When it hit love, it just got stuck, and it hasn't moved since.
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