Growing A Family – Blending a Family – And the Beauty of Truly Becoming Family

I became a grandmother for the fourth time this past Friday.  A grandmother of four boys!  What fun and what a blessing.  3 years ago I didn’t have any grandchildren at all.  Then came the phone call that brought me to my knees.  Yes that was 3 wonderful years ago.

This past Friday, I (we) welcomed Brecken Alexander Morse into the family.  He joins his cousins on my (the dad’s) side of the family – Carson (2 yrs. 10 months), August (1 year 8 months) and Cooper (5 ½ months) and on his mother’s side – Addison (3 yrs. 5 months).  I hope that one day all of these beautiful children will live close enough to one another to grow to know each other as family … as cousins.  As an only child, each and every year I become more aware and cognizant of the strength and beauty of family.  With all of its ups and downs.

Which brings me to tonight’s musings.  I’m the ‘mom of the dad’.  Not the ‘mom of the mom’.  I’ve been both but there can be a difference.  Why?

Because of this crazy, yet wonderful, grounded gypsy lifestyle that I’m living … that I decided to make happen … I was able to arrive in Colorado Springs well in advance of the baby’s due date.  Not everyone is able to create such a crazy lifestyle.  I get it … Now remember, I’m the ‘mom of the dad’.   I am tempted to write ‘just’ the mom of the dad …. But I just can’t because it’ll never be a ‘just’.

The ‘mom of the mom’ arrived the evening of the birth … she arrived in record time!  I was so happy she was able to book a flight so quickly as I sensed and understood her anxiety … her excitement …. her wanting to be here!  I picked her up from the airport and took her straight to the hospital.  We visited for hours with the new mom and dad AND our new grandson before retreating to our children’s home.  We stayed up for a long time talking, celebrating and learning to appreciate one another….again … and on a new level.   Our children and new grandson were not discharged until Sunday afternoon so we had many more hours to celebrate and learn more about one another.  We had many more hours to bond as a family in the making.

I’m not nor will I ever be Brecken’s maternal grandmother.  But I am his paternal grandmother and why should there ever be a difference?  I’ve asked myself this question many times and have yet to come up with an answer that, to me, holds any credence.

My parents grew up close to one another’s siblings.  They lived in the same neighborhood.  Although there were many differences that led to many ‘discussions’ … some of them quite loud … over the years that I vividly remember, they were ‘family’.  They weren’t all related by blood, but they were family.  Isn’t it true that it’s only with those that we love most and feel closest to that we can open enough to argue with … open our innermost thoughts to … and still love one another at the end of the day??

I hope that the birth of Brecken will be the first of many gatherings that will enlarge his circle of family and will not discriminate between maternal or paternal because the love that we all share for that little boy and his parents knows no boundaries. We have so much to grateful for and I’m so glad that we can be grateful together as the love in our family grows.