My grandson doesn't know sadness. He doesn't know chaos. He doesn't know pain or loss.
That's not to say he hasn't had his bottle later than the exact moment he wanted it or been pissed when his Mama, Daddy, or one of us didn't move fast enough; because that has absolutely happened.
But it has been momentary. You can literally show him the bottle you are making and he stops crying because he knows it is coming.
You can say to him, "Baby Nina is coming shhhh." And he does. He does hush because he knows I'm coming, or his amazing mom and dad, or other family members are coming. There is no panic, no loss, no grief.
His joy, peace, and trust are blindsiding and fascinating to me. The way he looks at me, even when he is mad, wrecks my heart. He trusts me. He trusts his parents and the world and the honest, humiliating truth is, this is new for me.
I grew up in chaos, darkness, loss and I swore my children never would. I then made decision after decision, from staying when I should have left to parenting children who should have never been in homes, I broke that promise.
While pregnant with my first we literally, and accidentally joined a cult. She was born less than 24 hrs after a 17 hr rush to TN, me crammed in the back of a car with a bassinet and the little bit of things we could cram in the car.
I began being a foster parent before finding out I was pregnant with my second. I should have stopped then, but I didn't. My ill placed pride and faith led me down a very long road, that I am still on, of chaos, brokenness, and heartache.
By the time my son was born, I was a broken woman. I look at who I even was then and don't recognize her. I cried for hours, wrangled kids who were killing our family pets, and somehow managed to make sure everyone's physical needs were met.
I wish I could say things for better after that, but quite honestly, they got worse.
They got worse and worse until my eyes finally opened and I finally started choosing safety first.
The healing process has been long and awful. The cost to those who never chose has been most times too much and I may never forgive myself.
But that was then, and here we are.
Now we are home, we have home and peace and safety. We have everydays and hope that even if things are hard, there will be things.
His parents and family have worked hard to ensure that his biggest worry is if you don't rock him while you are also patting his back or if he decides to drink 6 ounces instead of his normal 4.
It is priceless and beautiful and so foreign I find myself constantly trying to sort it out.
And now my grandson is here and there is no sorting. There is no question. He is joy. He is the embodiment of home, safe, forever.