The 'Firsts'

I am sitting on my backyard patio; it’s a little past seven in the morning on the first Sunday of Summer 2013.  The cypress evergreen that line my backyard once threatened by gusts of hurricane winds this past autumn and laden with snow and ice this past winter now rustle faintly as the fledglings that nested within them in the spring serenade me.  I am surrounded by green– the carpet of grass and my perennials, as well as other varieties of annual leaves we planted in the spring along with the spectrum of colors of flowers in pots and in our garden.  Sonny is wandering around, occasionally chasing the birds or sniffing the scents of bunnies that frequently hop across the lawn.  I am at peace and yet overwhelmed with joy at the same time.   

My granddaughter, Lexi Grace, arrived home two days after she was born on Thursday, May 30th.  She had her first ride in the car buckled up safe in her car seat and looking very annoyed at the new contraption she was placed in.  A huge teddy bear sign greeted her on the front lawn sitting upon the words, “It’s a Girl” and holding a heart with her name, birth date, weight and inches.  She met George, her dog, for the first time.  He exuberantly wagged his long curly black tail while simultaneously sniffing her toes and head.  Naturally, we had prepared him the night before by providing her scent with a blanket she was swaddled in at the hospital.  Lindsay and Scott called me to take pictures as soon as they got there and I was only too happy to accommodate them because it meant I’d get another chance to see my precious granddaughter.  They posed next to the teddy bear, their first picture as a family in front of their house- Mommy, Daddy, Daughter and their dog, George.

While Lindsay and Scott were getting settled, I took Lexi on her first guided tour of her home- just the first level (I was too nervous to walk up the stairs to the second level just yet.)  I showed her the kitchen– telling her that’s where Mommy does all the cooking and daddy does all the cleaning; the living room­– explaining that’s where she will spend a lot of time with Mommy and Daddy; the backyard– where her first swing set will be; Daddy’s office- where he works from home and the dining room– where Mommy first told Daddy that she was in her belly and where Daddy and Mommy announced to the rest of the family about her.  Lexi slept through the whole tour. 

Then I went home to let the new family spend their first night together. 

A lot of firsts happened after that– Lexi got to meet her first cousins, Marisa and Leah and they got to hold her.  A lot of other people came to meet her for the first time– aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles, cousins, friends and neighbors.  She got to try on all her beautiful clothes and sit in her infant seat and the space age swing that I still can’t figure out how to turn on.  She went on her first visit to the pediatrician and had her first walk in the neighborhood in her stroller.  She even had her first visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, where I took her on another tour that she slept through and she had her first walk around that neighborhood.  And finally, her first bath, while screaming in protest.   

I have gotten to see my own daughter as a mother for the first time.  It didn’t surprise me at all that she would be a natural at this.  Almost 27 years ago when I brought Kimberly home from the hospital, I glimpsed Lindsay’s motherly instinct.  She held out her hands while I placed her baby sister in her arms and she fed her as if she had done it hundreds of times before.  Now I watch as she nurses her own daughter, even though it is not an easy feat and I can offer her no advice in that department.  I was a nursing “drop-out”.  I think I attempted it for about 10 minutes and then wearily gave up and succumbed to bottle-feeding.  Breast feeding was not encouraged as it is nowadays. 

I also got to see Scott as a father for the first time, doting over his little girl, although this is what I anticipated.  And even though Lindsay is nursing, he got to feed Lexi one bottle of breast milk for the first time. 

The new parents are making their first adjustments to life with a child.  One never really knows what they’re in for when they arrive here.  Lindsay just said to me yesterday how she hardly sleeps now.  “And you’ll never sleep again,” I informed her.  “At least not in the way you used to.  Welcome to parenthood.” 

Once you’re a parent, you half-sleep, for your mind is forever occupied with the life of another outside of your own.

Seeing my own child, the one who changed my life forever, changing as she crosses that threshold to motherhood is lovely, but also frustrating and even funny at times. 

It’s frustrating because I sometimes think of Lexi as “my baby”.   My “grandma” friends, Roselee and Janet, forewarned me of that feeling and I have to stop myself from saying it.  Apparently there’s even a name for this–– unconscious gatekeeping.  Brazelton, the renowned baby doctor (whom Lindsay and her facebook baby group have never heard of- maybe because he’s 95 years old) wrote about it in one of his books.

“In my work I've learned that everyone who cares deeply about a baby is in competition for that baby: parents with each other, grandparents who feel "if only they'd do it my way," caregiver and parent, parent and teacher, coach and parent. It's an inevitable reaction and part of attachment.”

Lindsay has mentioned to me that it annoys her when people other than she and Scott call Lexi ‘my baby’.  So, now when I call and ask about the baby, I stop myself after the ‘my’ and add ‘Lexi-la’ or ‘Pitzkla’ or just ‘granddaughter’– then the ‘my’ is sanctioned.

There have also been those moments when I helplessly witness the nuisances one experiences postnatal; for example, watching Lindsay trying to get up out of a sitting position while being in pain from her hemorrhoids and episiotomy.  We decided to name them- Lindsay called the hemorrhoids- Harry and his horrible two brothers and I named the episiotomy- Ethel, the evil episiotomy.  So, when I call and of course first ask, “How’s my baby, Lexi-la?” and then, instead of asking how her hemorrhoid and episiotomy feel, I ask, “And how’s Harry and Ethel?”  Fortunately, as the first month postnatal is coming to its end, so are Harry and Ethel’s reign. 

Then there are the entertaining moments of watching Lindsay trying to manage it all--taking care of another human being and the breast-feeding and all the inconveniences that come with that, along with the spitting up, the pooping, the projectile pooping– yes- projectile pooping.  Because of all this, you tend to let yourself go. 

I remember those days, when all my attention was aimed at my new baby, dressing Lindsay in designer outfits from her beautiful Layette from the famous Brooklyn Widensky’s Clothing Store.  She looked perfect, while I looked like hell- wearing just an old stained t-shirt and sweats with barely brushed hair.  I never imagined Lindsay following in my footsteps, with all her nurtured taste in designer clothing and accessories.  One night, when she managed to get out between breast-feeding, I went to pick her up just for a quick run to Target and when we were ready to leave, I noticed a white stain and another large mustard-colored stain on her wrinkled dress. 

“What is that?” I asked. 

She looked down. 

“This is spit-up and this is poop,” she answered.  “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you going to at least try to clean it off?” I replied.

She went to the sink for a minute, splashed some water on her dress and grabbed her bag.  “All right.  All done.  Let’s go before they close and Lexi’s due for another feeding.  I have an hour and a half.”

Hmmm…first-time mothers.  Of course, after a little clothes-shopping in Target- her new store for designer clothing- a bit of the ‘old’ Lindsay returned. 

Last Sunday, we celebrated Lexi’s first father’s day.  I bought Scott a shirt that said “Lexi’s Daddy”, which he proudly wore.  We had a huge party at Lindsay and Scott’s house.  Last year, we also celebrated at their house; although, there was melancholy permeating the air; it was our first father’s day without my brother-in-law, Scott, who had passed away in January.  And, Lindsay was supposed to have been 6 months pregnant with the first baby she had lost.  I vaguely remember daring to picture the next year’s father’s day in my hopeful imagination- with a baby in Lindsay and Scott’s arms.  And one year later, my wishes and dreams came true.  

Tomorrow it is our 35^th wedding anniversary and Mark and I are going out tonight with Kim, my mom, Lindsay, Scott and Lexi to celebrate at Lula’s – where we had Lindsay’s baby shower.   It will be Lexi’s first trip to a restaurant and our first anniversary as grandparents.  Some people celebrate with elaborate trips or jewels; but this celebration will be priceless.

And it all began when two people fell in love….

Happy Anniversary to Grandpa Mark. 

I have everything I could possibly want. 

Love, Grandma Jeannie