As I carried my tiny granddaughter down the stairs, a thought flashed through my mind that I never would have had 30 years ago.
What if I drop her?
I clutched her tight, shooed the horrifying thought out of my mind, and continued down the stairs into the kitchen to warm up the breast milk my daughter-in-law had left for us.
I breastfed my son, so I never thought about temperature, but as I boiled water to warm her bottle, I worried.
What if I burn her?
That night, I jolted out of bed several times, convinced I had slept through her crying.
What if she needed me and I didn’t hear her?
During the day, I found new disasters to imagine. I wondered what would happen if she slipped out of my hands in the tub, or if the dog got jealous and bit her. I worried about something, anything, happening on my watch that could change her life forever. I thought being a grandparent was supposed to be easier than parenting because you get all the love and fun, and you don’t have all the responsibility, but to me, it feels like twice as much.
If something were to happen to my granddaughter, I wouldn’t just be heartbroken myself. I’d have to watch my son and his wife go through the anguish. I can’t imagine how heavy and awful that would be.
I was carefree once
When I became a mother, I was young, energetic, optimistic, and blissfully inexperienced. My Enneagram personality type is the “Enthusiast,” so I had nothing but sweet dreams and big plans for my kids, and I totally believed the world would cooperate.
Over the decades, I’ve watched friends lose children, illnesses appear without warning, and accidents change lives in an instant, so I’ve developed the art of fear and pessimism.
I also know a lot more now. I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology and have felt equipped to raise confident, emotionally healthy children. I knew to say, “You’re behaving badly,” instead of “you’re a bad boy” (to make sure behavior, not identity, was being shamed), and “good job” instead of “good boy” (to encourage hard work rather than entitlement).
I knew to focus on love, instilling good values, and getting important things right. Now, I know that doing all of that doesn’t guarantee anything.
I might know too much
As a coach, I’ve helped many people uncover the childhood experiences that shaped their beliefs and sense of self. For accomplished adults, it usually isn’t dramatic. Most parents weren’t cruel or neglectful. They were loving and devoted and just had no idea that a simple incident on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon could become a defining memory for their child.
These coaching sessions have taught me that every interaction can carry so much weight. So, now when I play with my grandchildren, all kinds of things cross my mind.
Was my teasing taken the wrong way?
Did they hear my encouragement as criticism?
Did my impatience show when I got interrupted?
Am I helping too much and sending the message that they aren’t competent?
Am I helping too little and sending the message that they aren’t worthy of support?
It’s a lot that often weighs heavily on me.
I’m trying to focus on the good things
I love being a grandmother. When I put fears aside, I love relaxing and joining them in their worlds of games, trucks, drawings, or stories.
As a mother, I had a lot of life and work responsibilities looming. Now that I have more time and more wisdom, I have just one focus: loving them unconditionally and making sure they know it.
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