1998 Entry (Grandma)

Grandma

I’ve finally found one thing that may make this journey worthwhile. I’m going to be a grandmother. My oldest daughter is just a few months pregnant and, although I struggle so with this midlife crisis, I’m not struggling with the grandma concept!

I’m not particularly fond of the people at work calling me, “grandma!” in a jovial teasing way, but I imagine being a grandmother. I think of my own grandmother and what she meant to me. I dream of a little face looking up at me and glowing with joy at my arrival. I imagine my daughter calling me with reports of each little triumph.

I loved being pregnant and I’m glad my daughter is experiencing that joy. Oddly enough I feel little envy of her. Somehow this is one point of aging I’ve accepted. Perhaps it’s because I began motherhood at age 19 and didn’t stop until I was 36. That makes my oldest 25 and my youngest 9. It’s a little different, but I can understand women from either side of the line. I guess the women who waited until their forties to have their first child aren’t struggling with this age thing at all. They’re too wrapped up raising their kids to take the time. I, however, let mid-life crisis intrude on me far too often.

Being a grandma should make it worse, and it does scare me — I thought I would be wise by the time I wore that name — but it also thrills me. It’s a bright star in this dark sky of forever aging.