Learning to Let Go

Our tiny little granddaughter, Ana, visited our home for the first time tonight, bringing along her mommy and daddy. What a little angel she is, all soft and quiet and content just to be held, mostly by Mommy.

It is surprising to realize that I am not responsible for this little helpless bundle of need. When I hold her or look at her, I feel my mothering instincts kick in. After all, it was only about 5½ years ago when my youngest, Jared, was a baby, needing me every second. I must remember that Ana is Becky and Li's baby, that they will parent her just fine.

And they do. Tonight, she is just 6 days old, and already they are old hands at changing her diapers, burping her, knowing when she needs to breastfeed, knowing why she's fussing. I am not needed for anything but oohing and aahing, for holding Ana when Becky's ready to get all 6 feet of herself up from our deep, squishy, comfy couch. The sidecar crib they'd bought, so Ana could sleep right next to their bed, within reach? They don't use it; they've instinctively figured out that they and Ana get much more sleep when she sleeps with them in their bed.

It is time for me to let go of being a baby's mother. I am the mother of a grown woman, who is herself a mother. I am the mother of a elementary-school-age boy and a preteen boy who's just begun to notice girls. I am a grandmother. I can learn to step back a bit. I can learn to let go. My children will teach me how.



Becky daughter Li Ana parenting grandmother boys growing up EditorMom