I loved my new granddaughter before I ever got to hold her.
While I was tending the home front in Ohio, Maren Genevieve Bert was born on an overcast and misty day in Austin, Texas. Of course I would love her. Shes my one and only granddaughter.
Initially I had to rely on the verbal descriptions of Maren via cell phone from my wife, better know as Nana, and my daughter, mother to Maren. Nana got to hold Maren shortly after birth.
I was informed that Maren was red and wrinkly, had lots of black hair and a fine, working set of lungs. I still found that too general for my liking.
But wondering ceased when a few hours later I saw my granddaughter for the very first time. Posted on my daughters Facebook page was a close up of Maren. Carrie had uploaded the shot right from her hospital bed. Maren looked pretty remarkable to me, and indeed she did have plenty of dark hair.
I loved the name Maren, a derivative of Maria or Mary. Genevieve is pretty cool, too. But pity the poor girl when asked to print her name in school. She might have to buy a vowel from Vanna White.
Of course, viewing a picture of your newborn granddaughter is one thing. Actually seeing her in person is a horse of a different color. I planned to ride that horse pronto.
Having sent Nana down well ahead of the due date to help our daughter prepare for the big event, I was to gallop into Texas after the birth. One assignment was for me to take an updated family photo.
I also took plenty of pictures of Maren by herself. I have Maren in her bouncy seat, portable car seat, her mommys sling, in the arms of her brothers, her daddy, Nana and just about any other pose you can imagine.
I turned the camera off when it was time for diaper changes. Im not the paparazzi after all. Maren will make a terrific businesswoman someday. She has the concept of input and output down pat.
Yes, I captured those typical baby grimaces, smiles and yawns. But no matter how diverse the expressions, no digital photo can compare to actually holding a newborn.
I forgot how delicate, vulnerable and fragile babies are, and tiny, too. Its amazing for their size how big they can make your heart feel. The fact that Maren is my granddaughter might have something to do with that.
I also forgot how a days old infant can recognize its mothers voice and respond accordingly, with a different cry for each personal need required. Clearly there is nothing wrong with Marens hearing.
Maren cooed and squeaked and squealed as only newborns can. She grinned and cried and circled her lips as if she were blowing bubbles while she slept.
Add in that special, indescribable fresh fragrance of a new baby, and you are reminded just how precious and miraculous life really is.
Maren seemed to take to anyone who held her. Her two big brothers, still colts themselves, couldnt get enough of her.
I couldnt get over how pink and pure her complexion was. With those little dimples at the base of her long, skinny fingers, she looked like a living baby doll.
In case you havent noticed, I love everything about my new granddaughter, Maren Genevieve Bert. That includes all those vowels.
Contact Bruce Stambaugh at brucestambaugh@gmail.com.
