I Am My Baby's Grandmother: On Being a Mother Again at 60

I am the 60 year old Mother of a 2 1/2 year old. During the last two and a half years, I have done it all. I have given the feedings every two and a half hours, changed a ton of stinky diapers and I have rocked a screaming baby until I felt like screaming myself. Most women my age are thinking about cruises or taking cross-country trips with their newly retired husbands or playing cards and having lunch with their friends. I struggle with car-seats and have lunch at McDonald's while sharing a 'Happy Meal' with my toddler. After having spent so many years raising a family and finally getting the last little bird out of the nest, some women can actually sit down and drink their coffee in peace. I juggle my coffee carefully in one hand, while smoothing down a pre-schooler's curls and dry a tear stained face with the other. Instead of getting my nails manicured or my hair done, I wonder when I will find the time to slap on some hair-dye to hide the gray. I experienced the pregnancy, the birth and the tantrums. I didn't do it some of it first hand, but I have done all of the things that have been the most important. The only thing I didn't do this time around was develop more stretch marks on my abdomen.

There are so many rewards for raising a little one at this time of my life. I get hundreds of wet kisses and tight hugs. I get to share the wonder of looking at the stars and the moon in the night sky. I can recite all of the latest names of all of the most popular characters on kid's TV. I have become best friends once again with Sesame Street. I still get to participate in playing in the aisles of Toy's R' Us without expecting that someone might report me to the manager as a possible child molester. I can dress up for Halloween and go out into the dark night with the anticipation of meeting ghosts and goblins instead of just spending the evening passing out candy to the little monsters that ring the door-bell. Santa still comes with loads of presents and the Easter Bunny is alive and well and has just made his yearly hop to our house. Most women my age look back at the years that they raised their children with a melancholy reflection while I am kissing imagined and real bruises and bumps and making them better with Mommy love.

My muscles ache and sometimes I hobble as I rise up from my seat when my little one needs me. These days as I put my child to bed I feel like going to sleep at the same time she does. Most of the time I am exhausted by 8:00 p.m. Once I could have partied far into the night with the best of them, now I just want to sleep, but there are still far too many chores to catch up on to go to bed this early and sleep doesn't always come easily when you are 60. Why have I chosen to have a child at this time of my life you ask? What can I possibly be thinking? How unfair to the child to have such an old mother! Yes I know all of the arguments and trust me I have had them with myself as well. You see it really wasn't my choice to have this baby. It was my daughter's choice, my grown up daughter and her inability to care for her child, that is the reason that I am a Mother once again at 60. I am uncertain, afraid and rejoicing in this magnificent, unexpected gift that I have been given. I am my baby's Grandmother. She doesn't know the technicalities of this right now, to her I am just her Mama.

I have raised four children to adulthood. I am now raising another little one. I have five grandchildren that I see often and love with all of my being, but they have their own mothers. I have my own toddler to raise once again. I am not writing this article to get into all the why's of the situation and the reasons that my granddaughter is my daughter. It is what it is. I am hers and she is mine. We are together and I am singing lullabies when I could be getting my nails done. I am reading "Goodnight Moon" for the tenth time when I could be watching the news. It takes me all day to read my newspaper and at this point I am lucky if I can take a shower and when I do it isn't alone. I go to the bathroom, take showers and try to put make-up on once in awhile aided and accompanied by my almost three year old. The years of not having my house a mess and time to sleep in haven't materialized. I still step on toys in the darkness when I have to use the bathroom and I wear colored clothes with patterns because they don't show what sticky hands and mouths leave behind after cuddles. I sometimes have little pink giraffe barrettes holding back my hair because that is all I can find.

Some days I feel as though I can't do it another second. I can't give this little girl what she needs. I am tired. What if I get sick to the point where I will not be able to care for her any longer? How will she feel when she graduates from Junior High School and her 70 year old Mother is cheering in the stands? Will she be embarrassed by my wrinkles and my white hair? Will she resent the fact that I can't go hiking in the mountains with her or ride bicycles to the beach in the summer or teck endlessly through Disneyland without a rest? These thoughts constantly are my companion and there are no answers to the questions. Will I live long enough to see her grow up? I pray I will.

I have a second chance to experience all that I once thought was lost when my children grew up and moved away from home. I get the fun and the magic of delving into childhood once again aaccompanied by the wisdom and patience that comes with age. Circumstance and necessity have made me visit my young adulthood once again. I am Mama. I kiss and comfort. I teach her prayers at night and discover the joy of being a child all over again. I juggle the best and worst of being the 60 year old mother of a toddler. I struggle with my aches and rejoice at her accomplishments. We are a family, a team. She doesn't notice my worn face or care if it takes me a bit longer to get to her when she falls. She knows she can count on me and I am there for her. She sees only my love for her and we both are comforted by it. I may be physically her grandmother, but to her I am just her Mama and she is my baby.