Connie A Thompson

On Being A Grandma: Happy Birthday Daniel!

First Photo

First Photo

When I found out my daughter was expecting, a coworker told me I would experience a love like I had never felt before. I didn’t think much about it until a few months later when I got to see my grandson, Daniel for the first time.

There he was in a bassinet only minutes old. The nurse wanted to get him upstairs; his sugar was low. And no wonder since he was 9lbs. 4oz. and his mother had not had anything to eat for twenty-four hours. He was hungry.


First photo with Grandma

In that second of looking into his eyes for the first time, I had a wave of emotion roll over me. I’d felt something similar after giving birth to my own son and daughter, and yet this was different. This would be the child I would look forward to having fun with.


First Professional Portrait

Now I had fun with my kids, but this would be different. The responsibility of raising a child hangs over you. You’re sleep deprived. You’re scared. You don’t know what to do, and the hospital sends you home with this little one. There isn’t an instruction manual although there are many good books. Everyone has advice to give and it often conflicts with other advice you’ve been given.


Daniel with his Mommy

Last night we met for dinner. His face lit up with a smile. He took my hand, and we walked into the restaurant. He ate his dinner and then provided the entertainment. He mimics anything you say, unless you try to get him to. He can pitch a fit. He will test you when you say don’t touch, he’ll look at you, grin, and then hold his fingers out.

Every doctor’s visit they say he’ll be tall, he’s in the top percentile for height, and he’s as tall as many three-year-olds. Can you believe anyone from my lineage can be tall? I’m not even 5 feet. Last week at daycare, they were ushering all the children back into the toddler room. It seems Daniel can now reach the doorknob, and he led the charge into the big kids room.

Daniel with Great Great Grandma

Daniel with Great Great Grandma

Each time I hold him in my arms, I wonder if my grandmothers felt this way. One has passed, and the other suffers with memory loss. I wish I could ask them.


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