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The Grand Mother

Last month, I received a new title: Gigi. That's my own personal name for Grandma, and in assuming it I stepped into a whole new realm that I never even dreamed existed. Other women who had attained this rank had told me that there was nothing like it and absolutely no words to describe it and I had actually found that to be true. When I had my own babies, each one reached out their tiny hand and grabbed onto a part of my heart and each time I thought there was absolutely no way that there would be room for any more love inside. But unreservedly every baby reached out and found more love that I had to give.

Then along came this new one, this baby of MY baby and everything shifted. Yes, there were the cliches that ring true: I can give her back when I'm done and her cries don't mean I have to rush around to make things right and I'm not losing any sleep, blah, blah, blah. But the truth is there's a catch to that whole handing her back thing. I can't fix it, only…

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