A Proper Granny

I had never expected to become a grandmother – was I up to the challenge?

ONCE it had been photographs of their weddings, then their children, but now my friends were sharing snaps of their gorgeous grandchildren with me.

It just didn’t seem possible! Where had all the time gone?

Although I never had such photos to show off myself, I didn’t feel envious in any way. I had my own contented, fulfilling life and I was happy for them.

I came late to marriage, you see. In fact, as time went on, I didn’t think it would happen to me at all. Then along came Ian with the twinkle in his eye and I was smitten.

Ian was tall, rather distinguished-looking, with a terrific sense of humour. He joined our firm as general manager of the men’s clothing department.

It was love at first sight and within months we were a couple and making a date with the registrar’s office. I hardly had time to breathe!

Ian was a widower in his late forties, and he had one daughter, Stella. She was in her mid twenties and already married to Peter when I came on the scene.

They lived in an old but rather picturesque cottage just over 30 miles away, and as they were both working full-time and gradually restoring the cottage at the weekends, I didn’t see that much of them.

Stella was a pleasant girl, though, polite and affable, but always a little distant with me. Even after 12 months I felt she was still making her mind up about me, maybe comparing me to her mum. I didn’t know.

I think she was glad that her dad was happy again, but when birthdays or special occasions came round I still didn’t feel relaxed with her. Ian was very supportive and assured me that I was doing just fine.

I remember vividly that day when Ian came rushing into the kitchen to tell me the good news.

“Oh, you’ll never guess, Dee,” he said, his face flushed with joy.

“We’ve just had a card from Stella with a pram and a stork on the front. She’s pregnant! We’re going to be grandparents.”

Actually, I wasn’t surprised. Stella had hinted that she was getting a bit weary of all the renovations to the cottage and just wanted to settle down and start a family while she and Peter were still young. But things had happened sooner than expected.

“That’s wonderful news,” I said, giving my husband a hug.

I have to admit I wasn’t quite sure about the “we” part. For one thing, did I really classify as a proper granny?

I suddenly felt a little anxious. After all, I hadn’t had any children of my own. I had no experiences of babies. What help or advice could I give?

“You’re jumping the gun a bit, love,” Ian told me when I related my feelings to him.

“We’re in this together now. It’ll all be fine, you’ll see. Besides, we won’t get much of a look-in with the wee one at first.

“You don’t know Peter’s mother that well, do you?” he pointed out. “She’s been waiting for a grandchild since Stella and Peter first got together. She’ll be ecstatic now and will be taking charge as we speak.”

Stella’s pregnancy seemed to proceed at a fast rate after that.

I went down to the children’s department during my lunch break at work for a bit of advice and ended up buying two yellow sleepsuits, a packet of bibs, a first cup, bowl and spoon set and a couple of dummies, being reliably informed by the young assistant that these were essentials.

Peter’s mum, Irene, had already splashed

out on a carry-cot and a baby chair and enough clothes to dress a set of triplets.

She accompanied Stella to her first scan, photocopies of which were sent to everyone she knew, and she was the first person also to announce to the world that the baby would be a beautiful baby girl, stating that she hoped she would be called either Arabella or Cassandra.

Well, the baby arrived safely and perfectly formed right on time and was duly named Molly Grace, which even Irene conceded was rather sweet.

Then she immediately moved into the cottage with her daughter-in-law for the first two weeks and took over until Stella was able to manage on her own.

I had kept a little distance, not wanting to impose, but sent a card and left messages saying that I could drive over and offer any help if and when required and left it at that.

The phone call came on a Thursday when Molly was nearly three weeks old.

“Is that you, Dee?” I could barely hear Stella’s voice for the fine set of lungs exercising at full throttle in the background.

Stella herself sounded decidedly weary and flat.

“Oh, Dee, I’ve got the most awful headache today and . . .” Her voice faltered and I knew at once that she was struggling. “Do you think you could possibly . . .?”

I was at Stella’s cottage within the hour.

The poor girl opened the front door in her dressing-gown, looking dishevelled and decidedly pale.

“Oh, come in, Dee. I’m so glad you could make it,” she said. “But please don’t look at the place. I know it’s a wreck.”

It was hard not to look, though I pretended not to.

I carefully bypassed the laundry, all tipped out of its basket in the hall, and the pile of unwashed plates and cups on the drainer.

I ignored the closed curtains and baby paraphernalia spread out all over the sitting-room floor.

“Molly’s had three almost sleepless nights and I can barely function this morning.

“Poor Peter’s had to pull a dirty shirt out of the laundry basket to wear this morning then went to work looking like death. I wondered if you could look after Molly for a while so I can get a few things done.”

I gazed down at the screeching bundle with its clenched fists and tried rocking the cot. Molly stopped whimpering for a few seconds and looked up at me with an angry red face and big eyes.

“She’s been fed and changed, but the midwife says she just likes to cry, that’s all.” Stella sighed. “Some babies are like that at first, she said. Though I wish she’d do it a little more quietly. It’s a good job we haven’t got neighbours.”

“Have you tried her with a dummy?” I asked.

I might not know much about babies, but I did remember the young woman on the baby counter saying some parents found them a godsend, especially in the first few weeks.

“I have got a couple in a drawer somewhere, but Irene says I shouldn’t use them. She says that babies get reliant on them and it doesn’t look nice. So I was trying to avoid using one.

“But quite honestly, if we go on like this, I can see Peter having to sleep in the spare room. I don’t know what else to do.”

I leaned over the cot and gently and rather tentatively picked up the little bundle.

She was warm and cuddly and stared at me with those beautiful big eyes. I have to say that I was instantly bewitched.

“Well, that makes two of us novices, then, Stella,” I told her, smiling. “Though you are already managing a whole lot better than I ever would as far as I can see.

“You go and make us both a cup of tea and then have a bit of time to yourself. I’m not going anywhere, and we can tackle everything else in the house later.

“Don’t worry about Molly. I’ll be careful with her.”

“Thanks, Dee,” Stella said, looking relieved and a little more composed.

I sat there holding the little bundle for a good hour, talking, singing, trying her with bottled water and patting her back. I surprised myself at how confident I became after a short while.

The little darling wriggled impatiently now and again, and occasionally complained, but at least a little peace had been temporarily restored.

We gave Molly a bath, which was a real revelation. I hadn’t realised quite how slippery newborn flesh actually was!

Molly splashed her little pink legs about and covered us with half the bathwater, which made both Stella and me laugh, and all in all we had a jolly good time.

Then we secured her inside a new sleepsuit (one of mine, I fancied!) and gave her a bottle of milk. She seemed contented and relaxed as we laid her in the cot.

“You’re a natural, Dee!” Stella exclaimed, now visibly refreshed and clapping her hands, and I must say pride swelled in my chest.

OK, so I’d put Molly’s nappy on back to front to begin with, then I had struggled with the press studs on her little suit, but I’d done it!

Molly was fast asleep as soon as her head touched the mattress, and together Stella and I tackled the washing and the housework.

“I’m so glad you could come over at such short notice, Dee,” Stella said afterwards as we had a bit of lunch together. “Of course, I was grateful for Irene’s help, but she can be a little suffocating at times.

“All I really wanted after a few days was time to get to know Molly on my own and find my way of doing things. Starting with one of these.”

She opened the table drawer and produced a dummy which looked remarkably like one of the two I had bought.

“I’ll probably only use it short-term, but if it helps . . .”

“Good for you.” I grinned.

She hugged me then – the first warm hug she’d given me since we’d met.

“Thanks so much for being there when I really needed you, Dee,” she said. “Of course, I do miss Mum a lot, and especially now that I have Molly, but I’m so glad you’re part of our family now.”

I smiled, but I was quite emotional inside. It had been quite a day.

Just before I left, Molly whimpered and opened her eyes.

“Just in time, my precious,” Stella said, leaning over the cot. “You’ve woken up just in time to say goodbye to your very special nanny Dee.”

****

I took the photos of Molly to show all the girls at our next coffee morning. I’m one of the gang now. Proud as a peacock to report every milestone in that little cutie’s life.

I’ve not only suddenly gained a stepdaughter, but a beautiful stepgranddaughter, too.

Yes, I’m now a proper granny. n

I gazed down at the screeching bundle with the clenched fists