My daughter, my eldest child, just had her first child -- a baby boy. They live in Israel, and I flew over for his birth and to help afterwards. What was meant to be a two-week trip, became four and I became an integral part of a very important time in my first grand baby's life, and in those first few weeks that my daughter became a mother.
Having spent the past 25 years learning the depths of love from my three children, I was prepared to love the little person we were all waiting for. However, when I held him for the first time and saw her distinct features blended with my eldest son's and my son in law's, on an tiny new face, my heart stopped and I was transported back to those precious early hours when I held my own newborns.
I had the privilege and joy of spending the first 21 days with my grandson: rocking him, singing to him, memorizing his tiny features, and telling him I love him, as we all sought refuge from the intense Tel Aviv summer heat. Nestled in a small apartment, I sang the same Peter, Paul and Mary songs that my own babies loved. He sought comfort in the crook of my neck and I savored the rich smell of his amniotic sweetness. In those 21 days we became a new family, and I promised over and over- in whispered endearments, that I will always be there for him. This is just our beginning.
Read more on Huffington Post: A Few Things I Forgot... About Being A New Mother