She’s three weeks old today. The day Mila
was born, I looked down at her tiny form swaddled in her mother’s arms and kept
telling myself, “Just minutes old. A new life.” I had difficulty wrapping my
mind around what seemed to me to be a miracle.
Mila is our
fifth grandchild, but the first for our youngest son and his wife. Since she’s
American and has no family nearby, we stepped in as substitute support until
her parents arrived from New Jersey and have followed her pregnancy with close
anticipation. Every night I expected the phone to ring announcing that they
were on their way to the hospital, until one night a WhatsApp message arrived:
“Contractions more frequent. We’re on our way!”
I remembered
baby clothes stored for years in a wooden trunk – sweet, impractical dresses
from my babyhood, an ivory, lacy bonnet that had donned my mother’s infant
head. I washed and ironed them with care. Now they hang in Mila’s closet. Since
they live nearby, I couldn’t keep myself away after her birth and stopped by
just to gaze at her every day that first week. I also enjoy watching the wonder
of my son and his wife as they get to know this brand new person they brought
into the world.
One concern was
how their two dogs would react to the baby. It’s been fascinating to watch. Mocha,
a gangly, year-old adoptee, seems uninterested, though one day she did lick
Mila’s ear. To me an animal’s lick signifies acceptance and caring. Little
black Frida, their 3-year-old rescue dog, evolved from curiosity to a fierce
protectiveness. She quickly picked up the signs from Mila’s parents that she is
a loved new member of the family.
All this joy has
a downside which I try not to dwell on. Our son took his time meeting the right
woman and starting a family. I said to him, “It’s about time!” He answered, “Forty
is the perfect age to be a dad.” But that makes us “old” grandparents. When our
older son’s twin granddaughters were born thirteen years ago, I still had the
energy and flexibility to “play” with them once they grew into the toddler
stage. We’d crawl around our house chasing each other pretending we were wild
animals. “I’m a fierce lion,” or “I’m a hungry shark!”
What can Mila
and I play in a year or two? I tell myself to focus on today. Enjoy her first
smiles, her sweet face as she sleeps, the soft skin of her tiny hands, and the
cuddly outfits her mom dresses her with, each day a different one. And notice
each little change for Mila changes every day.
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| Mila and Frida |
