85 KERRE MCIVOR
IT’S A LOVE THING! BESOTTED KERRE MEETS HER GORGEOUS GRANDCHILD
Everyone who told me was absolutely right – there is no love like the love you feel for a grandchild. Last Saturday, I flew across the world to meet my first grandchild – Bartholomew Alastair George Berich.
I had seen him via FaceTime and Kate and her husband Ranko had been incredibly generous with photos, but nothing was going to be like breathing in that smell of newborn baby and stroking my finger along the silky-smooth perfection of his cheek. And in person, he was everything I’d dreamed of and more.
I arrived early on Sunday morning and my son-in-law picked me up from Heathrow Airport. According to Ranko, things were brilliant at home. He was completely besotted and helping out with the middle of the night feeds. The baby was quite happy to take a bottle of his mother’s liquid gold – the milk didn’t necessarily have to come from the source.
Kate, he said, was amazing. She’s a natural-born mother and because the baby was feeding and sleeping so well, the two of them had hosted a dinner party for four friends the night before. I sat there feeling somewhat superfluous to requirements.
A week after I’d had Kate, I considered it a major triumph if I’d got out of my dressing gown by the end of the day. There was no way I could have cleaned the house, prepared food and kept up my end of the conversation around a dinner table. I had imagined arriving like a ministering angel – nana to the rescue – washing dishes in the sink, hanging out the washing, reassuring Kate and Ranko that all was well with the baby.
Instead, I arrive to a gleaming home, an immaculately turned-out mother and the happiest, most content little boy I’d ever seen.
Holding him in my arms was everything. His eyes have started to focus and he gazes at the people around him with such intensity, as if he’s imprinting their features on his brain.
The first night I was there, I gave him his early morning feed. Holding him in my arms, as he sucked greedily from the bottle, I was overcome with emotion and love. The trust the wee thing puts in us! His utter vulnerability. His perfection. I wept happy tears – but I also couldn’t help but think of all the babies who will never know the sort of care and devotion this little man has from his parents. The fragility of babies is breathtaking.
If you don’t know love like it, you don’t know fear like it. Everything becomes a hazard. Steep stairs! Imagine the disaster if you slipped while holding the baby! The Oriental rug in the hallway with the curled-up corner
– anyone could trip on it. Even his very existence is cause for concern. Now he’s here, I can’t imagine a world without him.
I lay in the dark, on my first night, savouring the little snuffling noises coming from my room-mate in the crib next to me. Suddenly, there was silence. I leapt up, my heart in my mouth and peered over the cot. His wee hand clenched into a fist and I breathed again. But you can’t keep up that sort of intense hyper-vigilance – that way lies madness. So I’ve calmed down, taking my lead from Bart’s parents.
As it turns out, I’ve been his biggest threat to safety and wellbeing. Forty-eight hours after arriving, I could feel a head cold coming on – one of the bug bears of flying with so many people in a confined space.
The thought of a 10-day-old baby with a bad head cold was unbearable. So my taking over night feeds was shelved and the cuddles have been restricted until I’m no longer a danger. Still, I’m here for a few weeks and Bart’s here for a lifetime – I’ll have plenty more opportunities to show my love.
‘Even his very existence is cause for concern. Now he’s here, I can’t imagine a world without him’