Today I had an ultrasound.
No, I'm not having another baby - all done in that department.
Funny thing is, ultrasounds aren't very fun when there isn't a little jellybean kicking around inside your uterus, in fact, they are a little horrible.
As I sat in the waiting room trying desperately not to let go of the 32 ounces of water that I was required to drink, I watched a man and a woman inquiring at the nurses station about where their daughter was and when they could go in and see "the baby". They had already pointed at the sign dictating the rules for a prenatal ultrasound regarding how many visitors were allowed inside.
They were a little younger than my parents, I assumed, and as they stood there, waiting for the nurse to come back and give them the thumbs up that it was okay to go back, I could tell how nervous they were.
The man, a head-and-a-half taller than his wife, whispered something in her ear and then proceeded to adjust the collar of her fleece coat, smoothing down her wrinkles until none existed. He fumbled with his shirt sleeves and checked his watch a few times. His nerves were getting the better of him.
She inhaled deeply and gave him an enormous smile. I could tell that she was just as excited as he was, but she was trying to be cool, not the jittery first-time grandma-to-be that is probably often seen when the "grands" come to see the baby for the first time before it is actually born.
They were so sweet, waiting for the nurse and they nearly pounced on her like hungry hyenas when she returned and told them that it was okay to go back and see their pregnant daughter.
Seeing the other side of this exchange, I got to thinking of how my motherhood has transformed my parents. All sorts of memories and emotions come to mind when I think about all the times my mom came with me to a prenatal appointment because Brett was working, or the times when my dad would call if he knew I'd been to the doctor or had a test done. They were always there, waiting, wondering and expecting just like we were, but differently.
Becoming a grandparent for the first time is, I imagine, just as life altering as becoming a parent for the first time.
I could tell that the couple in the waiting room were going to be great grandparents, because there they were, supporting a child that wasn't even born yet. And I wanted to run after them and give them a hug and tell them that they were about to start another amazing chapter in their lives, but, I think they already knew that.
How lucky their daughter is, how lucky I am, to have parents like that.
No, I'm not having another baby - all done in that department.
Funny thing is, ultrasounds aren't very fun when there isn't a little jellybean kicking around inside your uterus, in fact, they are a little horrible.
As I sat in the waiting room trying desperately not to let go of the 32 ounces of water that I was required to drink, I watched a man and a woman inquiring at the nurses station about where their daughter was and when they could go in and see "the baby". They had already pointed at the sign dictating the rules for a prenatal ultrasound regarding how many visitors were allowed inside.
They were a little younger than my parents, I assumed, and as they stood there, waiting for the nurse to come back and give them the thumbs up that it was okay to go back, I could tell how nervous they were.
The man, a head-and-a-half taller than his wife, whispered something in her ear and then proceeded to adjust the collar of her fleece coat, smoothing down her wrinkles until none existed. He fumbled with his shirt sleeves and checked his watch a few times. His nerves were getting the better of him.
She inhaled deeply and gave him an enormous smile. I could tell that she was just as excited as he was, but she was trying to be cool, not the jittery first-time grandma-to-be that is probably often seen when the "grands" come to see the baby for the first time before it is actually born.
They were so sweet, waiting for the nurse and they nearly pounced on her like hungry hyenas when she returned and told them that it was okay to go back and see their pregnant daughter.
Seeing the other side of this exchange, I got to thinking of how my motherhood has transformed my parents. All sorts of memories and emotions come to mind when I think about all the times my mom came with me to a prenatal appointment because Brett was working, or the times when my dad would call if he knew I'd been to the doctor or had a test done. They were always there, waiting, wondering and expecting just like we were, but differently.
Becoming a grandparent for the first time is, I imagine, just as life altering as becoming a parent for the first time.
I could tell that the couple in the waiting room were going to be great grandparents, because there they were, supporting a child that wasn't even born yet. And I wanted to run after them and give them a hug and tell them that they were about to start another amazing chapter in their lives, but, I think they already knew that.
How lucky their daughter is, how lucky I am, to have parents like that.
December, 2006
7 comments:
I imagine it is just as incredible as becoming a parent. I mean, my baby having a baby (when she is in her late 20s at least and married of course)? I mean, oh wow!
*big, happy sigh*
I love seeing my parents spoiling my kids. It's a side to them that took me by surprise.
Okay sugar. I'm on a hormonal roller coaster so STOP MAKING ME CRY!!! Seriously, I love how you wrote this and it's sooooo true. My mom is just over the moon for my boy and I love watching their relationship unfold!! What special relationships.
this made me want to cry.
stop it. (seriously, it's those glimpses of humanity..it's crushing, isn't it?)
I can't imagine my babies having babies, but I am sure it will be wonderful.
I would rather not imagine my babies having babies because when you have an 18 year old it is rather to close for comfort. And I am FAR too young to be a granny. Just the thought of it makes me want to rush for the smelling salts.
Talk to me about it in...ten years time?
Great post, Carrie.
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