- At first, my mom didn't seem too excited about my newborn son — her first grandchild.
- I expected her to be a devoted grandmother, instead she had a full social calendar.
Toward the end of my first pregnancy, a routine check-up turned into a hospital admission and, ultimately, an emergency C-section. We quickly reached out to my mother and asked her to stay with our pets.
My mom is a proud dog grandma and, as always, was delighted to spend time with our dachshund. To this day, her favorite coffee mug is still one with bold, black letters proclaiming, "I love my granddog."
Naturally, I expected this same level of enthusiasm when we arrived home with our son — her first grandchild. But within minutes of our arrival, she rushed out of the house, explaining that she needed to sleep in her own bed. I was both shocked and disappointed.
I assumed we were operating from the same playbook; that the grandmotherly rules of engagement would look more like the precious doting my dog experienced than the immediate distance she took. Instead, she laid out her terms, which included a prohibition on changing diapers and no babysitting until he was potty trained.
She wasn't the type of grandmother I expected her to be
Reflecting on these conversations, I realize we'd never actually discussed what kind of grandmother she would be. I expected an overly affectionate, slightly micromanaging, stereotypical Indian grandma. I imagined my mother planning activities, making Indian sweets with my kids, and watching my children occasionally.
What I got was a grandmother with a full social calendar, including a deep commitment to her community and, specifically, her theatre group.
She visited us, but usually only for an hour or two, and often timed these relatively brief visits to occur when she was on the way to something else.
I had no idea that in just a few short years, this would be exactly what my son needed.
Her attitude is exactly what he needs
When he was a toddler, we noticed some concerning behaviors. Even the most benign interactions could activate his nervous system and make him feel extremely fearful, sometimes resulting in acute anxiety attacks. We sought professional help and eventually received a diagnosis.
Through it all, my mother continued her brief, low-pressure visits.
One of the ways we accommodated our son's nervous system disability was to decrease the demands in his life. His brain has trouble differentiating between what is and isn't a threat, and we knew that for at least a season we needed to reduce the number of interactions and decisions he faced every day.
We made it a habit to intervene when someone peppered him with questions, insisted he participates in an activity, or otherwise invaded his space. Simple trips to see family or visits with friends became logistically complex — requiring social strategizing, anticipating emotional needs, a willingness and ability to pivot at a moment's notice, and enough of the snacks he was eating that week to get you home and back without a meltdown.
Friends and loved ones struggled to understand our changed parenting strategy, approach to discipline, and interactions with our son. Some questioned and even challenged us.
But my mom just kept doing what she had always done.
To this day, when she shows up — usually with his favorite treat — she lets him tell her how he wants to spend their time. They often just sit on the couch and watch TV, eat some snacks, and then she leaves.
She's doing all the things I thought would be insufficient when he was an infant. My fear was that her approach would inhibit a connection between the two of them. But instead, it's been the perfect way to connect with him.
Every time she's here, his body noticeably relaxes. For that, I'll always be glad she isn't the grandmother I expected.