My Mom Blog

There’s something about becoming a mom that makes you look at your own parents a little differently. You see them holding your child, and suddenly you can picture them holding you.

You notice little things. The way they light up when they see their grandchild and the way the grandchild lights up to see them. The way they worry, who knew someone could be so concerned about socks on a baby. The way they spoil them… just a “little”bit. The way they seeem to have an endless supply of love and patience.

You also start to understand things that you likely didn’t as a child. Before they were grandparents, they were your mom and dad.

The people who packed lunches. Stayed up when we were sick. Were there for our big events. Taught us so much that we know. Now, you get to watch them do it all again.

We are the ones watching our children run into their grandparents’ arms. We’re the ones seeing the special kinds of relationship forming right in front of us.

I think becoming a mom has made me think more about my own childhood. About the people who loved me before I ever knew what love really meant. My own grandparents.

The people who made childhood feel a little more magical. The people who had their own traditions, stories, and a way to make you feel like you were the most important person.

I hope my son has memories of sitting with his grandparents on various tractors, four-wheelers, lawnmowers, motorcycles, and every single car he sees, eating endless supplies of snacks, hearing stories that he has heard probably 100 times, and feeling completely, unconditionally loved.

Some children grow up without grandparents in their lives. Some have lost them before they were old enough to remember them. Some live far away. Some have grandparents who aren’t able to be present. Some families have complicated relationships that make the word “grandparent” feel very different from the picture that we have in our heads.

Because while I feel incredibly grateful that William gets to have grandparents who love him, I know that this isn’t something every family gets to experience. If you child doesn’t have grandparents in their lives, I hope you know that they can still be surrounded by the same kind of love. Maybe it comes from an aunt or uncle. A family friend. A neighbor. A teacher. A godparent. Someone who chooses to show up, year after year, and becomes part of your child’s story. Sometimes family is given to us, and sometimes it is found.

I hope William grows up knowing how many people loved him from the very beginning. I hope he has stories to tell about his grandparents, and memories that stay with him long after he’s grown. I hope he will understand what I am starting to understand now.

Grandparents are the people who loved us first.