I gave birth to seven beautiful babies. I nursed them, bathed them, walked the floor through the night when they had earaches, helped them as they learned to walk and speak. I took them to church, taught them to pray and read to them. I've watched them as they grew from toddlers to teens and beyond.
But, Brittany joined us full grown. I'm not the one who held her first. I didn't care for or nurture her while she grew. Another woman raised her, taught her, heard her first words and comforted her after her first heartache. I don't know what she looked like as a baby or toddler, I have no idea who her favorite teacher was in elementary, or what boy earned her first crush.
When she moved in, I never expected her to slip so easily into our family life. I didn't know she would become integral to us, a part of us. She came with her clothes and books and games and we made room for her in our home and our hearts. And, no matter what people call it, there is one truth--
She became my daughter the first time she called me Mommy. It didn't matter that it wasn't a child's voice, she is mine just the same.
I'm not sure what I thought it would feel like, the idea of being a grandma. I thought I would feel old. Or that I would be old. Mostly, I'm thrilled! She is the child of my heart and he will be too. He'll have none of my dna, but, I'll love him like he did.
He will call me Grandma. I can't wait.