Our lives are made up of a series of stories. Big moments. Small moments. Milestones. Setbacks and successes. Some of these stories are tied up in the mundane things of daily life, but that does not make them less important. Less meaningful. Some of them are big life events and celebrations. All of our stories, mine, yours, and all of the people in our lives, intertwine at times. Sometimes they are moments that are ours alone.
Precious boy, today, your first story became inseparably tied to my much longer story! Your first story became part of your mom's story, and your dad's story too. I don’t know those stories in the same way that I know my own, theirs are not my stories to tell. You will eventually hear them from your parents. But this letter, this is about how your first story became a part of my story. This is the first, in what I hope will be, many stories we share together!
When your mom called to tell me you were going to be arriving, our family group chat (text thread on our phones, explained in this letter because, by the time you read it, that kind of thing might be obsolete!) lit up! We were all so excited for you to arrive in this world! Your mom was experiencing some complications, so there was also some concern about the whole event. But we were all hopeful that things would go according to plan and our group chat was fizzing with banter and guesses about your major stats upon arrival. Boy? Girl? Time of birth. Weight. What the prize would be for whoever came closest to the correct answer. Naming rights, the first gift of Christmas, and some pilfered hospital items were all prize options. This kept us all busy as we waited somewhat impatiently for your arrival. We all hoped we would know who you were by the end of that first day. I had been so excited for you to get here that I drove to your Aunt Fiona’s house, (which was closer to your mom and dad) to wait for the news of your arrival! We struggled to sleep that night As you probably already know, that did not happen. Day 1 rolled into day 2.
We were all trying to be patient, trying to keep busy and distracted. Aunt Fiona and I were out running errands when your mom called, a little scared and emotional, and asked us to come. You were not doing super well inside of your mom and she was not doing great overall. We were all pretty worried. There were tears. Kind of a lot of them. By the time you read this, you will likely be very familiar with our side of the family and tears. We’re big weepers. We weep when we are happy, we weep when we’re sad. We weep when we are worried, frustrated, angry, or scared. On the day you were born, our tears were filled with worry and love. For you. For your mom. For what we feared we might lose. For what we prayed we would gain!
Aunt Fiona and I drove like your lives depended on it. We anxiously waited for your dad to text us. To update us in any positive way. It seemed to take forever. Every moment we drove felt like hours. Aunt Fiona kept checking my phone for messages. Finally, a little more than an hour after your mom had called asking us to come, we got your first family picture. Your mom and dad were both grinning from ear to ear. You were mushed-faced with your eyes tightly closed! But you were both alive! Aunt Fiona and I could not stop crying! We were so thankful and so, so excited. We had to pull over to just look at you. To soak it all in for a minute. We also needed food! Suddenly we were starving. That’s another thing you probably already know about our family, we’re pretty good eaters. Already, at 2 days old, you are proving to be a good eater as well. This eating part of our story could really spiral here, down a real rabbit hole. I’ll save that for another letter.
Your dad sent that first picture. And NOTHING ELSE. We didn’t know who you were yet. We didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl. How much do you weighed? What your name was? Nothing except that you were here, and from all accounts, seemed to be doing well. You probably know this by now, but your dad is not an over-communicator. He’s succinct. That is a great quality in a lot of situations. Not so much in this one! We were thrumming with anticipation to know all of your details. Again we waited for news.
FINALLY, after what seemed like hours, but was only about 38 minutes, he told us who you were! All the things. Your name, weight, length, time of birth, and he sent the 2nd picture of you! Your feet looked ginormous! And again, we were weeping! Our family had all placed bets on the time of your birth, your gender, and your weight. No one was even close on the time, but I knew you were a boy from the very first! I was over the moon with joy I had not really expected. Something you don’t know, but I will tell you now, I was never really anxious to become a grandparent. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be one, but many of my friends are longing to be grandparents. I have always been ok with being one, or not. I just wanted your mom and aunts and uncle to be happy, healthy, and living lives they loved. If that included kids, great, if not, I would be ok with that too. This joy your life brought to mine was unexpected and good Simon. I had no idea how much I would love you. I had no idea how you would impact my story!
I will never forget the first time I saw you. You were sleeping skin to skin against your mom. The early evening light was glowing gold in the room, like an anointing, welcoming you to this world. It was the most precious sight in the world. Seeing you with your mom, already cozy, peaceful, and trusting in your sleep. You were maybe 4ish hours old. All of my worries from the day for your safety and your mom's went out that window in that golden light. You eased right into my heart that day, where you will always remain. When I held you for the first time. I felt like I was holding my breath. It had been so long, probably 21 years, since your Uncle Noah was born, that I had held someone so new and tiny. You felt so light in my arms and also heavy. The weight of your importance in my story, in my heart, was so visceral at that moment.
Writing this today, I have no idea what is to come of our stories together or separately. Of course, I have hopes for you. I can imagine beach days, camping, playing games, baking brownies or cookies, and singing songs. sharing my favorite books and stories with you. Discovering new ones. I can imagine hunting bears, slaying dragons, catching fireflies, riding bikes, and nerf gun wars….but today, I don’t know which of those things will be favorites for you. Today they are all just possibilities. So many wonderful possibilities. That’s what this life here holds for you, Simon. A world of possibilities and experiences.
As your Grammy, I am so excited to share some of those things with you. To be a part of some of those stories in your life and for you to be a part of them in mine. There will be many stories in your journey through this life, as there have already been in mine. The one thing I have learned is that the people that I experience those things with are what make those experiences and stories the best! People like your mom and dad, your Aunt Fiona. All of our family who love you so much already, and who haven’t even met you yet. Today I am back home in Michigan, feeling too many miles from you and your mom and dad, and I am longing for the next time I can snuggle you up and hold you in my arms, soaking up more precious moments together. I am full to the brim with joy, gratitude, and love for your safe arrival in this world and your permanent infiltration into my heart!
