It's official. I have a new grandchild. He or She is not yet born, but is a person already. My youngest child is the Mother. She has already proven herself a good mother. Almost a year ago Beth gave birth to Martyn, the baby I'm holding in the picture to the right. As my Mama would have put it, "Martyn has been her heart and soul this last year."
That is not to diminish in any way her love for Martyn's Daddy, nor for any of the rest of us. It's just that she has been very focused on Martyn. I think Beth's focus will not diminish, but will expand as this new child grows and eventually is born so that everyone else in the family can get to know him (or her).
Never having had children close together, I cannot speak for what Beth's life will be like after the baby is born. Rachel was six years old when Jon was born. Jon was seven years old when Beth was born. Maybe the Lord knew I would not do well managing a toddler and/or a fast-running three- or four-year-old while I had a babe-in-arms.
I'm pretty sure Beth and Eli will figure it out, even though I can't help them. That's the joy of being an old Grannie. I can enjoy the Grand Relationship. I can pray for the parents, and encourage them to hang in there when, as usually happens, a tiny little new human takes over their lives for awhile, and they're tired and hungry and cross and in need of a break. The joy far outweighs the inconvenience, the lack of sleep, the money worries, and scheduling conflicts. They've already experienced it to some extent with Martyn. They have hearts big enough for another one.
Yay! I'm Grannie again, longing to make more of Grannie's memories.
