By Vicki Bahr 
One of my favorite pictures is the one taken of our two daughters-in-law standing belly-to-belly at their baby shower. They were pregnant with our first grandchildren, due just weeks apart, and we were so proud and happy.
We got the first labor call from our younger son Adam telling us Debby was at the hospital, everything was fine, and there was no need for anyone to come just yet. I begged to differ with his assessment, but in the interest of keeping him calm, I agreed . . . with fingers crossed behind my back. I raced to the hospital by myself since John was already asleep and had an early morning appointment, and found Debby’s Mom and Dad both in the waiting room. I wasn’t the only one who had crossed my fingers behind my back, and we all laughed about it.
Debby’s parents were already grandparents and kept me company by telling me stories of how wonderful grandparenthood was. We were the only ones in the waiting room that night, there were no other babies in the nursery, I was nervous, and time was dragging interminably.
We saw a woman we thought might be the obstetrician quickly run down the hall, shrugging out of her coat, and after what seemed an eternity, Adam came through the door with the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face. Tears were running down his cheeks as he announced that his daughter was here, Debby was great, and the baby was beautiful.
“What’s her name?” we all asked simultaneously as we jumped up to hug him.
“Her name is Makena,” he whispered, “after the beach in Hawaii where I proposed.” We all agreed it was the most perfect name in the world for the tiny, dark-haired beauty we all took turns holding as we welcomed her into the world.
Exactly six weeks and one day later, the second labor call came from our oldest Christopher, and we raced, in daylight this time, to a different hospital. I was the one sharing my not-so-vast grandparenting information with Maureen’s mom this time as we tiptoed up the hall, thinking we were invisible. The nurses just smiled at our sneaking to the closed hospital door and waiting for the sound of our grandson’s lusty cries.
When Chris came into the hall, he had tears in his eyes as he welcomed us in to meet his son. “What’s his name?” I finally asked after we had passed the baby around the circle. There was money riding on that name, and I wasn’t the winner. His name is Colin.
That night, baby Makena met her new cousin in one of her first forays into society, and the nurses all confirmed just how beautiful she was. Chris had the first of many worries as a dad as he stood outside the nursery watching baby Colin as he slept quietly in a bassinet equipped with a bilirubin light because of his jaundice.
And this year, in the blink of an eye, Colin and Makena are graduating from high school in reverse order of their births 18 years ago because Chris and Maureen live in North Carolina now, and the school year ends sooner there.
I can’t believe the years have passed so quickly: years filled with birthday parties and preschool presentations, new baby sisters and cousins joining the family, baseball and soccer games, karate and Boy Scouts, summer vacations, jobs, driver’s licenses, raucous family Christmas parties and college campus visits.
It seems only a moment ago that our own four children were studying for driver’s licenses and picking up graduation gowns, deciding on career choices, and coming to us for guidance.
The years have been so kind to us, the miracles beautiful, the memories magical. And the tears are plentiful, just as they were when we were first introduced to baby Makena and exactly six weeks and one day later, to baby Colin.
Don’t blink, new grandparents. They’ll be standing ramrod straight in their graduation gowns with huge smiles on their faces, ready to face the future, but you’ll be remembering those very first moments when you held them in your arms. It will happen to you too. I promise.
by Cynthia Smith Huhman 
by Courtney Marie Poullas 
