My Alyssa is about 38 weeks pregnant. Our first grandchild. It still freaks me out a bit, not that she’s having a baby; more the new title I’ll have. Grandmother. Ack. But not ack in a bad way. More of a what the heck way. I’ve been going along living, meh so I’m 50 cough/cough years old. What’s your point? Now there’s a point.

I’m not bitter about being my age or accepting my new role and title to my kids and husband. I’m actually so, so proud of our kids. They’ve each chosen their own path, and at the same time keep in touch with each other and Tommy and I. There’s the best feeling when the girls get together and plan when they’re all coming over for dinner. Thomas will be there and with his meds straightened out he’s quite pleasant. I’ve missed that about him, it’s good to have him back. When Alyssa’s belly grew fairly big we were like, “Hey Thomas look at Alyssa’s belly!” He looked over and said “Whoa!” He was so funny. We told him there’s a baby in there and it’s a boy. He remembers.

I feel like if I’m actually referred to as a “grandma” I will feel so old, like elderly. Even though I don’t consider myself that way. I also feel as though, ok this is it; you are part of the next older generation. No way around that. No matter what I feel or say; the excitement and pride watching my Alyssa through her pregnancy is one of the sweetest, most exciting events of my life. I pray she has an incredible delivery and everyone is healthy and safe. You can’t ask for anything more.