“Hi Nana,” said seven-year-old Eliza Jane on the phone from the grade school parking lot at noon on a Wednesday.
“What are you doing, Eliza Jane? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
Eliza Jane replied, “I went to the hospital, Nana!”
“What happened??” said a concerned Nana, who later said that she was envisioning a broken arm.
“I have a new baby sister!”
Another—more surprised—“What?” from Nana, followed by “Let me talk to your mother . . . ”
And that is exactly how my mom found out she was a grandma again! I quickly confirmed Eliza Jane’s news and told my mom to check her email, where she would find a photo of her newest grandchild. We didn’t talk long, anxious to get Eliza Jane back into school so that we could get back to the hospital. A few details were shared, with the promise to share more soon.
We woke up that morning having no idea that in a few short hours we would be parents again. My parents didn’t know that another grandchild was on the way. There had been no preparations, no parties, and no news of an impending birth.
We had a trip planned to visit my parents that coming weekend and decided to make the trip with our brand new baby. At just three days old, Annie met Papa and Nana, who were instantly smitten, just like the rest of us! We spent a weekend taking turns holding, diapering, and feeding this little miracle that fell out of the heavens and into our family. We shared the experience of meeting her birth mother and tearfully told of our brief conversation with her.
This little (then unnamed) bundle of joy felt love from grandparents, great grandmas, as well as aunts and uncles. They were all anxious for a peek at a miracle. Adoption had once again blessed our entire family.
That little girl is no less loved by her grandparents than their other 15 (biological) grandchildren. In fact, don’t tell my siblings, but I think the “adopted” grandkids are loved a little extra!
