TAKEOVER by my Dad - Becoming a Grandfather

Becoming a Grandfather was something that I had never really thought about until my daughter informed us she was pregnant. First thought; so happy. Second thought; what do you mean you are pregnant you are not old enough. Third thought; I don’t remember your husband asking for my permission. Fourth thought; reality. My little girl was no longer a little girl. I did know and appreciate that some time ago but now she was to become a mum and continue with her own path.

It also reminded me of when we had first mentioned to my parents some thirty years earlier that my wife was pregnant. I tried to remember how they reacted; “we’re so happy”, “do you know if it’s a he or a she”, “what is the due date”, “have you got a name?”. Strangely these were my feelings also.

Little did I know or appreciate at that happy time that my daughter, the same daughter that my wife had given birth to would suffer like my own wife. Being a father, I protected my own family like many other fathers have and continue to do today but now it seemed different. Now I was not the first person who would be there for her. It was her husband and rightly so but my fatherly instincts still wanted to protect her from any pain she would have or be having.

The day came and I became Grand Dude; holding MY grandson, holding a baby that had come from my baby. My thoughts how I wished my parents were alive to celebrate this event, for them to have those feelings again, for me to see that joy and for all of us to celebrate one more time. Then my thoughts slightly turned to sadness. She had struggled with the childbirth. All her dreams of what she was going to do, how she would cope went completely out of the window. Everything to do with the plan that she had agreed with the midwife was totally different to the reality she had endured. Life had just changed.

I remember her telling me she was so pleased to be leaving the hospital, going home with her husband and beautiful baby boy. The babies crying on the ward through the night, husbands with their partners attending but either not knowing what to do and if they did do something it was wrong. This would be the easy part.

After a few weeks my wife informed me that she was worried about our daughter. She was regularly upset when they spoke, she was crying a lot. Our Grandson would cry which is not unusual for a baby to do but my daughter was feeling that she could not pacify him. It did not assist her when whoever she passed him to he would stop crying and fall asleep in their arms.

She was suffering and was in pain, her delivery was not something trivial, she had suffered not only with cuts but also bruises. Labour had been a long time. Everything she was doing; standing up, sitting down, getting into and out of bed was painful and the stitches were hurting.

The bonding between her and her son, my grandson was not happening. She was becoming annoyed with everything that at one time she was so looking forward to. The so-called routine became what routine. Her husband was what any father hopes for from his Son in Law. He was there for her, assisting her, getting up in the middle of the night to feed their baby, allowing my daughter time to sleep, recover and allow her wounds to heal.

My wife and I would visit them, give them a break, would feed him, change him, that was an event in itself. I hadn’t changed a nappy since our own second daughter was born some 28 years previously. I felt terrible when it came time to leave that I was not able to help her, them, remove that pain, make her feel better. Just saying as you walk out of a door you know where I am if you need me, call at any time is not the same as actually being there.

On the train back to our own home regularly my wife and I would discuss our daughter, what we both thought, what she was doing, what she was not doing, the situation she had found herself, how books, articles, videos, websites had all played a part in how she was feeling.

After some weeks and further concerns my daughter was still not bonding with her son, my wife informed me that my daughter had contacted a Counsellor at the hospital where her son was born, she realised she needs help. What do you mean was my first statement but knew it was not what I was thinking or not being able to do. She needed to speak to someone outside her family someone professional.

My wife, her mum, was also suffering. She was worried about our daughter, but she was also remembering how she was when she had given birth to our daughter, how she had felt being a new mum, struggling with a crying baby, dealing with cuts and bruising. Wanting to help and like me she was unable to assist. My wife had suffered the same symptoms when our daughter was born so now I was not only concerned for my daughter but my wife also.

I sat with my wife on many occasions listening to her explaining to me how everything that our daughter was mentioning to her Counsellor she had felt exactly the same. The difference being, only time.

When our daughter was born it was different, there were no Counsellor’s, struggling with a baby was something that you got on with and had to do but I was now trying to assist my wife, understand her feelings, understand how she felt some 30 years ago, to make her feel that for what had happened to her our daughters had grown up in a mould of her, that she was a good mum and continues to be one.

After that first session with the Counsellor my daughter was very upset and explained to my wife that she had cried for most of it. I sat and listened to my wife tell me what my daughter had said, how upset she was, how she was told she was not different to many other mums, many were in the same position and strangely how she had felt better.

More sessions were completed, my daughter becoming more confident with her newborn baby, the interaction was happening, the crying with the Counsellor continuing but not as much. I was feeling that she was finally getting to the place she always wanted to be and it was also assisting her mum.

Now I am a happy Grand Dude. My daughter is in a far better place, talking about her issues, understanding her issues and not being so judgmental of herself.

The bond between my wife and our daughter was and will always be strong, now they seem to have something a little extra, something that only they have experienced, something that I will never have, but this was never about me. It was about my daughter and many other women who have suffered or are suffering.