1) A Boy Who Said “No Kids”
When my son Noah was four and I was a harried single mother, he refused to wear anything but his wet, fringed cowboy shirt for nursery school. I snapped. He declared, “I’m never going to have kids. It’s too much trouble!”
I softened: “It’s worth it, sweetie. It’s definitely worth it.”
2) Waiting Without Expectation
As he grew, Noah adored babies and pets, yet into adulthood he still planned not to have children. Even after he married Arcelia, I tried to keep quiet. Children are their decision—careers, finances, and a fragile planet all matter. I did, however, mention I’d happily babysit.
3) What My Two Grandmothers Taught Me
I was deeply loved by both of my grandmothers. “Grandma” took me to Quaker meeting and her sculpture studio, greeting me as her “number one grandchild.” “Ma” kept lemon drops in a glass hen, baked cupcakes, and wore a bracelet with a tiny airplane—her son Morton’s, downed in WWII—engraved with its serial number.
From them I learned the turning of generations: parents were once children; sorrow can coexist with carrying on.
4) “Paloma!”—The Day I Became Abuelita
One Sunday in Berkeley, Noah called from San Antonio: Paloma had arrived—20 minutes old. His voice was like a bowl of water he didn’t want to spill. I was ecstatic. In the background she cried—“a heel stick for a bilirubin test,” he said.
Driving around town, I kept saying her name aloud: “Paloma! Paloma!” I thought of the 353,000 babies born each day, many into war or poverty. The front page spoke of civilian casualties in Beirut; I made a donation to the Middle East Children’s Alliance in Paloma’s name—my first small grandmotherly act to protect not just her, but all babies.
5) A Week of Firsts: Holding, Soothing, and the Five S’s
When I arrived, Paloma was two weeks old, sleeping on her back (the SIDS guidance was new to me). She looked startlingly like Noah as a baby—already herself—and had her mother’s wide eyes.
In the hot Texas summer I mostly stayed inside, cooking while they napped, dancing her around the living room, singing half-remembered carols and Beatles songs. When she slept on my chest, time stopped.
I learned the five S’s for soothing newborns: swaddling, swinging, sucking, side-lying, and shushing. Noah was an expert swaddler, cooing, “There, Pumpkin Head, now you’re cozy,” while tucking her into a snug bundle. She gathered a bouquet of nicknames—Petunia, Sweet Pea, Florecita, Calabacita, even Bunion Cake. Arcelia called me Abuelita—little grandmother—which I cherished.
Leaves, Sky, and Quiet
Sometimes, despite the 102-degree heat, I took Paloma into the backyard. She instantly calmed—leaves, sky, the feel of real air on her cheeks. Noah loved leaves as a baby; he still does.
6) What Zen Calls “Grandmother Mind” (robai-shin)
Zen master Eihei Dogen urged cultivating robai-shin—grandmother mind, the great compassion that helps all beings. Parents must handle the foreground—meals, safety, logistics. Grandmothers, literal and metaphorical, can tend the background—air, water, stories of the stars—holding a wider, steadier field of care.
7) When Grandmothers Become Parents
Sometimes grandmothers must step into the parenting role—because of incarceration, illness, war, homelessness, or addiction. Many lead households with little time to waltz babies through the kitchen. I keep these grandmothers—kinship caregivers—in mind.
8) A Wider Circle of Care: From One Baby to All Babies
One morning I opened the paper to a photo of an infant half-buried in rubble. Later I watched Noah see the same image; he closed the paper with a low groan. It was harder to see him see it than to see it myself. I am Paloma’s grandmother—but I am still Noah’s mother.
9) Trouble—and Not Too Much: The Spiral of Generations
Gazing into Paloma’s eyes wasn’t a checklist item; it was joy. Seeing your child glad to be a parent affirms the long spiral—ancestors from the trees to babies watching leaves.
Noah, once the “too-much-trouble” boy, is a father. He’s tired; so is Arcelia, more so. Parenting is trouble—night wakings, laundry, the work of making the planet safer for children. It’s trouble, but not too much.
10) Good-bye, Abuelita: Carrying Grandmother Mind Home
When it was time to leave, Noah loaded my bag. In the garage doorway, Arcelia lifted Paloma’s hand to wave. “Good-bye, Abuelita!” she called.
“Good-bye, Calabacita—little pumpkin,” I answered—carrying grandmother mind with me.
This article also appeared in the February 2015 issue of Mindful magazine. Subscribe to support Mindful.
