On being a Grandma and a Mum

My relationship with my daughter underwent a radical change as soon as she knew she was pregnant with her first child. I can remember sitting for over an hour on the stairs where I'd been when the phone rang! What excitement - for both of us.

I don't remember what we talked about, but it was the start of frequent phone calls - phone calls that increased in frequency after Elizabeth was born. My dear daughter Jean had an unshakable (and, for me, terrifying) faith in my ability to answer her many questions, despite the fact that it was 28 years since I had cared for a new born infant.

Somehow I fell into a mutually beneficial way of responding - God must have been watching over both of us with great compassion! When Jean asked me a question I found myself answering, 'What do you think you should do darling?' OR 'What did you do sweetheart?' Almost invariably what she was planning to do or had already done was perfect - or close to perfect - for the situation. All I needed to do was tell her that.

On the few occasions when I was less sure about her approach I had two options: I could suggest a different approach or honestly say, 'I haven't a clue. What do your books say?' Jean is an avid reader - and a great Mum - check out her blog. She has shelves of well-thumbed childcare books full of advice.

The unanticipated outcome was that Jean felt totally affirmed as a new Mum and (until I told her my secret) laboured under the misapprehension that I was the fount of all childcare wisdom and knowledge. We had always been close, but walking with her through the births and lives of her four wonderful children has strengthened that bond.

I have a philosophy of not telling either of my children how to run their lives - of not giving gratuitous advice - indeed any advice at all, unless asked for it. But here was my dear daughter asking! Often she has turned to me as she weathered childrearing storms. I have had the privilege of sitting with her in hospital with ill children, of listening as she cried from exhaustion, of laughing with her over things that the children have said or done, sometimes crying with her as she poured out her concerns. Together we delight in my grandchildren, and I delight in our changing and developing friendship. I thank God for her often and for the joy of sharing with her so much of the joy and pain, the delight and frustration of being a Mum.