Last June, my daughter, Princess jogged down our stairs waving a white stick.  She skidded to a stop in front of my son-in-law and held the stick inches from his eyes.  “I’m pregnant,” she proclaimed. No fancy presentation for her, just the evidence and a grin that danced across her face.

His eyes rounded, his mouth gaped open, and then he gathered her close. The look they gave each other, that secret forever-in-love look, had me reaching for my husband’s hand.

When we stopped firing questions at her, she said, “I couldn’t wait until the morning.”  Something the box stated was a better time to test.

My husband instantly ran to the local pharmacy where he bought two more elaborate tests, ‘just to be sure’ and we ended up with three different white sticks all proclaiming ‘pregnant’ in varying ways.

They had planned to have a baby so that wasn’t the surprise.  The shock was the idea of my baby girl (who at 29 years old at the time is anything but…) having her own child. Her own family of three.

The milestones, when they come, always bring a jolt.  Riding a bike without training wheels, braces, a driver’s permit, high school graduation, going off to college.  Each time I became comfortable with the new normal in our lives, it would change.  I held on tightly, savoring every stage, but no matter how far I dug my heels into time, it moved forward.

I watched Princess’ belly grow as her fast, smooth stride slid into a slow, easy waddle.  Her hands often rested pressed against her back or lay on top of her stomach.  The pregnancy clothes that initially ballooned over her belly grew snug and strangers began to practice one form or another of absolute kindness around her. They held doors, moved her to the front of grocery store lines, and smiled at her often. She declared that the world would be a better place if everyone treated everyone as if they were pregnant. Not a bad thought…I wish the action would follow.

There was a weekend false alarm that had my husband and I driving her to the hospital.  (Her husband was at work.)  They hooked her up to monitors and we watched the false contractions wave across the screen. Her husband rushed in not long after and we saw the moment they realized that, false alarm or not, this baby was coming soon.

The call came two weeks later, just as we were getting ready for bed. Of course.  “This is it,” my son-in-law stated.

“We’ll meet you there,” my husband said and then ran like a mad scientist around the house getting himself ready to leave. We called our son and all of us arrived within minutes of each other.

We were led to hold-your-breath sized waiting room and told we could go see our daughter after they finished getting her set up.  I almost backed out of the room when I saw a well-coifed, well-dressed woman knitting calmly in a chair.  Next to her sat her equally snappily dressed husband reading a paper.  I assessed the clothes that I had thrown on…tennis shoes, ratty jeans, a tee-shirt and pony-tail that could not even begin to contain my just washed, wildly curly hair. No one had shared that we were supposed to dress up for meeting one’s grandchild, even in the middle of the night.

The woman looked over and said, “First grandchild?”

My unpreparedness must have been screaming out of my pores.  “Uh, yup.”

“I hope you brought a book or something,” she said, “these things can take a while.”

As a matter of fact, I had not.  I had brought food for my son (as I always do and always will) and some water, but I was lucky I had clothes on, let alone a bag full of activities.  Grandparenthood test number one – Fail!

The baby arrived 3 1/2 hours after my son-in-law’s phone call.  I admired his 10 fingers and toes, while my son stared in awe at his new nephew, and my husband looked on the verge of laughing and crying as he photographed everyone and everything in the room. Princess held the baby as my son-in-law stared blissfully down at my daughter and his new son.

I may not be the traditional, well organized, crafting grandma, but I plan to embrace my grandma-hood with everything I do have.  Reading.  Cuddling.  Singing (sorry about the croaking, kid.) Playing.  Baking. Homework help.  Sign me up for everything, except science – your parents will take care of that. Life has changed again in our family and I’m eager to experience this new, uncharted reality.

Welcome to the family, Asher!