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Shortly after turning 50 and coming home from my dream vacation in Italy, I got a phone call from my son. “I have something to tell you…” he says.

“Steph’s pregnant.”

👶 😱 🤯

As if turning 50 wasn’t uncomfortable enough, now I hear that my son is having a child with a woman he’s known for less than 3 months — and I’m going to be a GRANDMOTHER.

Dear Lord, help me!

I know, 50 isn’t too young to be a grandmother, especially when my son is 28.

But I was just getting comfortable with growing some of my grey hair out, saying “I’m 50” out loud, no longer being asked to show my ID at the liquor store, hot flashes… now I’m a GRANDMOTHER!? ACK!

👵 👉👉👉 😳

Now don’t get me wrong, a child IS a blessing. But I have to admit, learning that I was going to be a GRANDMOTHER makes me feel really uncomfortable. It makes me feel OLD.

I had to ask myself, why am I so worried about being called grandmother? Why do I cringe every time someone says “Hey Granny”? Why did it take me 9 months to choose my “Grandmother name”? (yes, that’s a thing, more on it later!)

Even my husband was into teasing me. Until he realized that if I’m a grandmother this means he’s a GRANDFATHER — Then the teasing stopped.

Last week, I flew to Reno, rented a car and drove the 2 hours to Winnemucca. I was greeted at the door by my beautiful son holding my granddaughter, Avery Grace.

Everyone looks great… Baby is sleeping, my son looks rested, his wife is looking really good especially considering that she had a c-section a week ago. Everything is peachy.

Over the course of the few days I was visiting, my kids deferred to me for advice constantly. When Avery cried, I picked her up and held her. Even with her crying, I felt at peace. Calm. Centered. Nothing like I did when I was 22 holding my son; back then I experienced complete panic, & anxiety.

Maybe it’s the meditation I’ve been doing for over 100 days straight… Maybe I’m jet-lagged from flying in to Reno from Colorado and driving 2 hours through the Nevada desert… Or maybe I have something I didn’t back then: maturity.

Being a grandmother means I get to step in to being the calm voice of reason and a source of wisdom about everything.

I get to hold the baby when she’s happy, then hand her over to her mother when she’s hungry and fussy. I only have to change diapers when it suits me (and it really doesn’t very often). PLUS I get to take my time, sip my coffee, and watch a baby sleeping. I get to spoil her by shopping Amazon and having supplies shipped next morning.

And, after a few days, I get to go home and back to my life with my full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep every night. I get to be Nana.

What I learned from my visit last week with my son, his wife and beautiful Avery, is growing older isn’t about losing time or about labels that make me uncomfortable. It’s about gaining the maturity to move through all the uncomfortable parts of life with more ease.

Can you relate to feeling uncomfortable with a label? What do you do when someone labels you with a name you don’t like? Tell me in the comments below!

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