“Some people are born grand; others achieve grandness; still others have grandness thrust upon them.” (paraphrase from Twelfth Night – Shakespeare)
I became “grand” at the tiny hands of Ethan Jeffrey Foster the early, early morning of July 15, 1996. Tracey, his brave, exhausted mother, had labored through the night and new papa Robert and close friend Sandra stayed right by her side post-delivery.
For some very welcome reason, it was I who got to go with Ethan and the nurse to a nearby alcove. The nurse cleaned him up, recorded information, and administered those essential newborn tests while I cooed and hummed along with the wonderful sound of my baby grandson announcing himself to the world. Quite impressive, that!
“Would you like to put on his t-shirt?” She handed me a tiny little garment with the hospital logo on it. (Ethan’s first logo shirt.) I slipped it over his head and snugged his arms into the sleeves. Then we bundled him up in receiving blankets and he became Burrito Boy, his first superhero moniker that he would carry for some months. Mom and Dad happily received their t-shirted bundle of joy.
For me, the newborn Grandmother, it was quite an experience. Being with my daughter, my best girlfriend as she gave birth was wonderful enough, but the surprise of having “grandness thrust upon” me by her new little boy was dazzling. I joked with her some days later “Ok, Tracey, you are the Mother, but I am the GRANDmother.”
Yes, now I get what it means to be grand.
