As any parent will tell you, the moment your child is born is like no other in your life. I mean, think of it. You have created a life. It is one of the few abilities that all humans -- no matter what their station in life or where they live or what their belief system might be -- share. And, while our lives are hopefully filled with an array of amazing adventures and colorful memories, there is nothing quite like being there at the moment your son or daughter arrives on planet earth and you are introduced for the first time.
In our case, the arrivals of Jesse and Alex are forever emblazoned in Lily's memory and mine although, obviously, from radically different perspectives. With Jesse, the drama was intense. Not only was this our first experience, but Jesse made a lasting impression by putting his mom through the ringer with a most stressful and rigorous labor experience. It turns out he decided to twist his body upside down at the last minute complicating delivery options, increasing pain levels for Lily and producing a meteoric rise in stress levels for his father as I helplessly looked on. I do vividly remember the hospital staff hurriedly whisking Lily down to the delivery room as I stumbled behind them ever so awkwardly trying to put on the surgical slippers over my flip flops as I frantically hopped down the hall trying to keep up with them. But when the delivery had concluded and when they handed Jesse to me to hold, and I gazed into that little face, there was no way to hold back the tears. There is no way to define the specialness of these moments or to adequately convey the depth of emotions that course through your veins.
With Alex, on the other hand, the labor and delivery were clearly choreographed by Walt Disney, I am quite certain. It was painless; it was peaceful. It was on schedule. I even had an opportunity to go to the cafeteria to get some breakfast! And, importantly, Lily's memories are not clouded by pain or stress. Once again, though, those first moments of holding Alex in my arms transcend everything. In those moments, the world stops spinning; there is nothing else happening. All that life is, all that it embraces, is staring right back at you, this little life you have created. Amazing. Overpowering. There are no other words for it.
We flash forward now more than three decades. While parenting never ends, grandparenting is about to begin. We have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of Alex and Katie's baby for months, and the time has come for us to visit and receive our formal introductions to our first grandchild. We now know his name to be Owen Michael Golland. Yes, that's OMG! As we take a seat on the living room couch, Katie hands Owen to Lily who cradles him in her arms while I gurgle some over the top emotional words that I'm sure made no sense as I take a spot right next to Lily. Both Lily and I start talking to Owen as if he's already quite conversant in English. When I get to hold Owen, I immediately tell him that over the next several days I'm going to tell him everything about his dad when he was a baby and beyond. No, there won't be any secrets here.
But, there's something else at play here. I realize it's the passage of time. As I stare into Owen's eyes, I feel like I'm looking at history. My mind flashes back to my parents and even my grandparents -- this chain of history that continues to unfold at a most personal level. To put a somewhat different spin on it, I see a passing of the torch. Here is the next generation, one that is likely to take us well into the next century. And, as I think back to my grandparents, whose roots date back well into the 19th century, the passage of time takes on a whole new dimension, one so much bigger than me. This perspective makes each of us seem so microscopic in significance. And part of me wishes that my parents and grandparents were here to share this moment with me. Oh well....much better to live in the moment, I conclude.
Maybe it's just me but I find it hard to look at Owen and not project more mature, well developed thoughts and reactions in him as I closely watch his every squirm and twitch. When he occasionally crinkles his nose or purses his lips, I can't help but wonder what he might be thinking. As I watch his eyes dart back and forth behind closed eyelids and those barely perceptible eyelashes, it is impossible not to ask what is he seeing? Is he dreaming? If so, what could possibly be on his mind? I mean, the little guy is only two weeks old. The same goes for his smiles, at least in the early days after our arrival. Is he actually pleased about something or is it just gas?
Then there's this issue with "the touch"? I seriously doubt that I have originated that term here, but what I am referring to is the ability to calm a baby once he or she becomes agitated or, worse, flat out screaming unhappy. It is undisputed that Katie has the touch. She is the master of the touch. When Owen gets beyond the second level of fussiness, Katie is there to magically and consistently bring serenity to the little guy. It may take the form of soothing words or the right bouncing motions, or the right stroking or body positioning. And, of course, feeding is always an option. We're talking an art form here not a science. If this were merely a function of arithmetic calculation, everyone would be good at it. But, no. Meme Lily, I must say, had an excellent touch. Most excellent calming abilities. And, new daddy, Alex, showed us his very impressive patience and equally impressive skills at using the large exercise ball to calmly bounce Owen into tranquility. Poppy Jeff, on the other hand, uh...not so much. Not that Owen would revolt whenever I would assume the babysitting duties. No, not at all. Owen and I definitely had a number of extended periods of time where he would either sleep in my arms or, if he were awake, I would fill his ears with stories of Alex as a young child as I had promised when we first arrived. But, when Owen did get fussy I cannot say I had "the touch" that Katie, Alex or Lily had to calm him down and bring him back to a calmer reality. I would shift the way I held him. I would endlessly stroke or pat him on the back. I would walk him around the house. I would bounce him on the big ball. I wanted desperately for one of these techniques to work if only to allow Katie to get some richly deserved sleep which she otherwise only got in sporadic stretches of about two hours or so. All the while I would whisper in a frenzy to Owen, "no, no, no, Owen. Please, please let mommy sleep." Not very effective. I guess it's a good thing I could do the food shopping, cooking and dog walking.
As the days wore on, we could actually see Owen develop some. Most memorably, as Owen's smiles developed,we knew them to be legitimate reflections of his happiness. Whether it was the touch or voice of one of us, or a response to music, or his sheer joy of stretching out on the couch and testing out his churning legs, there was little doubt there were stimuli that made the little guy happy. Think about it. There are few things that can make you smile so instinctively as seeing your own grandchild smile. I'm telling you, the kid is a charmer. Even his burps and farts are charming.
Yeah, we're over the moon alright. Isn't that where all grandparents belong?
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