Here Comes Treble: "You Haven;t Lived Until...''
...Leon, though initially a little worried about the possibility of hurting this fragile little person, quickly became adept at taking Mia from her mother; he spoke to her very seriously of how welcome she is, and how very much she is loved; showed her the balloons and flowers still displayed in the living room, and the garden where she’ll play in a year or two. He jiggled her on his knee, helping to dislodge those winds that babies find so uncomfortable, while reciting, “This is how the farmer rides – gal-lop-a-trot, gal-lop-a-trot; and this is how the young lady rides – trip-trap, trip-trap…” We watched in delight as Viv explained to Mia words in the Yiddish-English dictionary we’d bought that morning....
In this warm and loving column step-grandmother Isabel Bradley expresses the wonder and joy of tending to a new-born babe.
For more of Isabel's memorable columns please click on Here Comes Treble in the menu on this page.
“I’ve always told my children that I’ll never be old enough to be a grandfather – they must both be sterilised!” Over the eight years that we’ve been together, Leon’s been adamant that he did not wish to be a grandparent.
My attitude wasn’t much different: for years I maintained that I wasn’t ready to be a grandmother.
During June last year, Leon’s daughter, Vivienne, told us she was expecting a baby. There were about seven and a half months during which we could accustom ourselves to the coming change in our status. Leon mumbled, “One word from me and my children do whatever they please!” but in reality he was delighted.
Every week, Viv e-mailed us progress reports on the development of her ‘Bump’ – we read in fascination as our prospective family addition developed; eventually The Bump was able to hear Mum and Dad talking, listen to music played in the room where Mum was sitting, and see the difference between day and night. We waited eagerly for these updates and studied them carefully.
Bump – gender still unknown – definitely had a mind of its own. The due date arrived… and passed without incident. Phone calls between England and South Africa revealed that Bump insisted on staying inside Mummy. Eventually, in the early hours of Wednesday morning, third of January, Daddy – Richard – let us know that Baby was finally about to arrive. After only five hours, the tiny Bump was born – and was revealed as Mia Amelie. Even immediately after birth, Mia was a beautiful little girl. According to the mid-wife, she was rather “over-cooked”, even though she only weighed in at five pounds and four ounces or two point three kilograms.
There was great excitement in our home when the news arrived. Leon unsuccessfully tried to maintain his “Bah, humbug!” attitude, grumbling, “One baby looks just like another,” but it was difficult to keep him off the phone, or to disguise his continual smiles as he let family and friends around the world know that Mia was now with us.
I was just as delighted. My much-loved stepdaughter was a mother. That gave me the title of step-granny. What a treat!
Pictures of Mia at just six hours of age arrived on our computer, sent by Mia’s delighted grandparents in England; we showed them off to everyone. Mia is the first grandchild of three sets of grandparents: Richard’s parents live in Stanmore, North London, a twenty minute drive from Viv and Richard at Shenley in Hertforshire. Viv’s mother, Yvonne, and stepfather, Alan, like us, live in South Africa, and have a long way to travel to visit.
Our flight to England had already been booked; when Mia was two weeks old we rang the doorbell of Viv and Richard’s new home. Viv opened the door, holding Mia snuggled into her neck. The baby was so tiny, Viv held her easily with just one hand. Leon and I melted completely, becoming eternally doting grandparents in the instant.
Leon, though initially a little worried about the possibility of hurting this fragile little person, quickly became adept at taking Mia from her mother; he spoke to her very seriously of how welcome she is, and how very much she is loved; showed her the balloons and flowers still displayed in the living room, and the garden where she’ll play in a year or two. He jiggled her on his knee, helping to dislodge those winds that babies find so uncomfortable, while reciting, “This is how the farmer rides – gal-lop-a-trot, gal-lop-a-trot; and this is how the young lady rides – trip-trap, trip-trap…” We watched in delight as Viv explained to Mia words in the Yiddish-English dictionary we’d bought that morning.
We gazed in adoration as Mia lay sleeping, delightful expressions flitting across her face as she dreamed of – who knows what? Previous lives? The warmth and peace of the womb? All the delights of the life she will live? Smiles, frowns, joy, fun and frustration were all in her facial repertoire as she slept, watched by all of us.
Mia found the ritual of having her nappy changed terribly undignified, and every time it was necessary she fussed, then cried as loudly as she could, turning purple and holding her breath in a full-on tantrum. Leon found that getting down to her level and talking to her while Mummy was busy with the beastly process calmed Mia considerably. By the end of the week that we spent with the little family, Mia seemed to have become resigned to the fact that nappy-changing was a part of her life for a year or two, and accepted the ministrations with grace.
Richard is a terrific dad, changing nappies without a blink or a pinched nose, helping to dislodge those beastly burps, cuddling his daughter, and stroking her hands or feet as she feeds at Viv’s breast.
Holding this tiny baby roused all my dormant maternal instincts: the almost non-existent weight in my arms, the minute warmth breathing against my body evoked memories of nursing my own babies. Every time Mia cried, my heart broke: I longed to rush to her rescue, even when I knew she was only protesting at having her bottom bared. I spent hours cuddling her and kissing her soft cheeks, playing with her long and elegant fingers, delighted when she began to hold on.
My newborn maternal instincts didn’t stop with the baby, however. Towards Viv, I felt a proud protectiveness, a wish to help her and give her as much sleep as her heart desired. Viv’s sister-in-law, a lovely girl the same age as my daughter, was planning her wedding – I longed to be involved in all the plans, to help and guide her. I even found myself sounding, to my surprise, very much like my own mother, saying condescendingly, “What a lovely young couple!”
When we went shopping, Leon hovered over books of fairy-tales. When I tried to draw him away, he said, rather sheepishly, “Well, I always did believe in the tooth-fairy…”
After a week of baby-worship, we returned home, longing to watch Mia as she grows and changes daily.
I told my own children, “There’s no pressure – but I’m ready to be a grandmother right now!”
“Sorry, Mom,” they both replied, “You’ll just have to wait!”
My grandmother – one of the precious members of my childhood’s family – always said to me, “You haven’t lived until you become a grandmother!” Now, I know exactly what she meant!
Until next week… “here comes Treble!”
By Isabel Bradley Copyright Reserved ©
