The Reluctant Grandma

I wanted to be there for little Junie. Just not the way my daughter wanted me to be

- LYNNE HARTKE

I took my daughter Aleah to lunch, excited to hear the latest on her pregnancy. This was her first, and every day the anticipation was growing.

“I was wondering, would you watch the baby after my maternity leave is over?” Aleah asked. “Todd and I can juggle our schedules so it would only be two days a week.”

“I can’t,” I said. “My calendar is filled with community and church commitments.”

Aleah sighed, resting her hand on her seven-month baby bump. “We will check into daycare, but it’s hard with a newborn.”

“You’ll figure it out,” I said, refusing to feel guilty. My son and his wife had managed with my other three grandchildren. Didn’t Aleah realize I was done with child-rearing? I’d been a stay-at-home mom for almost 30 years. I was ready to get on with my plans. With my life. I might be a volunteer, but these organizations were depending on me.

I finished lunch, glad I hadn’t given in. I didn’t even need to pray about it. No Grandma daycare for me.

But Aleah’s request nagged at me. A few weeks later, I commiserated with a friend on the phone as I wrapped gifts for the baby shower.

“Didn’t you pray for years that Aleah would have a baby?” she asked.

“Yes, but…”

“Hadn’t you almost given up hope?”

“Yes…” This conversation was taking an aggravating turn. I remembered Aleah’s years of medical struggles, when pregnancy was not an option. I had let go of the dream of her and Todd ever having a baby.