The part nobody warns you about
Nobody warns you how much you’ll love it. You waited through the announcements and the ultrasound photos, and then someone laid seven pounds of your daughter’s baby in your arms, and “Grandma” became your favorite name overnight.
And you’re good at it. You’re the one who knows the bounce-and-sway that stops the crying. The one who gets him down for a nap when nobody else can. The one your daughter calls first, because you always say yes.
Which is exactly why the wrist thing stings more than it should. Not because the burning is unbearable. Because of what it quietly takes. You hand him back at minute ten when you wanted the whole hour. You let somebody else fasten the car-seat buckle. You start planning the cuddle around the pain.
The pain isn’t the worst part. The worst part is what it makes you skip.
The worst part isn’t the pain. It’s what the pain makes you skip.
The 2am shift is hers by choice. She wants to keep it.










