Jill's Journal: Self-appointed ‘grandmas’ need their ‘fix’, too

I have to admit, I felt a twinge of “grandma” in me last week when Erin, our graphic artist here at the Journal, texted me: “I’m in the early stages of labor.”

Basically, what she was telling me is, “I won’t be working from home today. Call in my relief.”

Erin has been with the Journal since day one, and our office, like most small business staffs, we’ve grown close to one another. We celebrate the good things together, like weddings and birthdays and a job well done on whatever special project we’ve embarked on. And we sympathize and extend a shoulder to cry on when life gets a little hard or we lose a loved one or face personal disappointment.

As a staff, we celebrated with Erin at her 2018 wedding, wished her well on her delayed honeymoon to Disney World in early 2019, and over the past nine months, have watched her belly swell and excitement grow for this next chapter of her life, “mommyhood.”

Once Erin revealed that she and Jeremy were expecting a boy, I light-heartedly started referring to him as “George.”

“How’s George today?”, I asked her often since she first shared her news.

Early on, George treated his mom well, giving her a break from morning sickness, but did instigate a variety of bizarre food cravings along the way. Think Ranch dressing – with everything.

Despite knowing Erin and Jeremy were expecting a boy, I waited all day Monday for the big announcement: The name, weight and how many inches he measured from head to toe.

But Monday came and went and there was no word.

So, I did what most “grandma’s” would do: I wondered and worried, was Erin OK? Was George OK or was he just being stubborn like his “grandma”?

Then came Tuesday.

And still no news of George’s arrival.

So, of course, I wondered and worried again. I surely couldn’t imagine enduring labor for all of those countless hours that had now literally turned into days. 

On Wednesday morning, I awoke to a text from Erin. She’d sent it just after midnight with a photo of their newly-born bundle of joy, his given name, Caleb – not George – and pertinent information: Ten fingers and 10 toes, two ears and eyes, and a cute little nose. He came into this world at 5:30 p.m. on April 21, tipping the scale at a healthy 8 pounds, 2 ounces, and measuring 21 inches in length.

I have no doubt that “George’s” maternal and paternal grandparents and his parent’s extended families and friends are more than eager to meet him. And this “self-appointed grandma” is, too. I look forward to the day that I can go shopping in person for that “just right” gift for George and the day that I can “ooh” and “ahh” over him in person and not just over photos Erin and Jeremy have shared.

After all, even self-appointed “grandmas” need their “fixes”, too.