It wasn’t a good trip. No, the trip was good, I wasn’t.

I was weepy. Everything made me sad. Intellectually, I know I should have enjoyed every second that I was there but heartache trumps intellect, every time. Just when I’d finally settled down over the girls leaving home, I’m faced with a country between me and my grandson. I hate it. I am grateful that, despite the distance between us, we see one another as often as we do, even with my tears.

When the girls were little, I wondered if they would mother like me. It’s natural for a new mom to want to do things your own way, the new way, the better way. When Meaghan was pregnant, I was flabbergasted at how everything that I was told to do when I carried my babies is now considered risky. Given that I delivered two full-term healthy twins, makes me wonder. None the less, she did it her way. She mothers her way. If she’s puzzled or worried, we talk about how I did things then she makes her own decision. My babies were happy. Coen is happy. Who knows why some babies are peaceful and content? I certainly don’t, but I think it has little to do with the latest way to mother.

Not having me or her sisters near by to help with the baby is lonely and exhausting. I worry whether or not she has time to look after herself. Whether she’s eating properly or finding time to exercise. I know her personality. She will, always, come second to Coen and Theo. It’s in her DNA. It would be so perfect just to be able to drop by for a cup of tea, steal some baby kisses and let her take a bubble bath. But it’s never going to be like that. On the upside, our longer visits give me the luxury of being part of the daily intimacy between Meggie and Coen. Watching her care for her son quiets all my crazy. She is totally, one hundred percent head-over-heels in love with this little guy.

While the girls were growing up, I constantly told them that someday they would understand how much I love them. One afternoon, I sat quietly with them as she sang Coen to sleep: