Unveiling the Untold Secrets of Grandparents Day: Join the Exclusive Club of Privileged Grandparents!

It stated simply, “Head this way.” I had been waiting for it for a few days.

My daughter was nine months pregnant. She was four days overdue. Their baby was ready to enter our world at a South Bend hospital.

When my wife and I entered the delivery room, my daughter was facing the worst pain of her life, yet for the best reason in the world.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” she said at one point.

Her doctor chuckled. “It’s time. Let’s have a baby!” he said.

This was the moment I fully realized I was going to be a grandparent. Until then, it didn’t really hit me. I never dreamed of becoming a grandfather. I didn’t think about it as often as most soon-to-be grandparents. And never once did I encourage my children to bring my first grandchild into this world.

In the early morning hours of Sept. 11, 2018, it was finally happening.

“Dad, are you here?” my daughter, Ashley, asked through tightly closed eyes while concentrating on her contractions.

“I’m right here,” I replied, jumping up from my chair.

Ashley’s mother motioned for me to be at Ashley’s bedside. I gently stroked her hair and held a cold washcloth to her forehead. Her husband, Aaron, was a rock, never leaving her side, coaching her as best he could.

“You’re doing great,” he kept telling her.

This past Sunday was Grandparents Day, designed to recognize a privileged club of members and to celebrate the bond between grandparents and grandchildren. It’s a bond I didn’t understand while nervously standing in that delivery room. Parenting has been the most challenging aspect of my life. Would grand-parenting be the most rewarding?

“You won’t know until you become one,” a nurse told me many years ago.

In just a few minutes, I would become one.

Unlike when my two children were born in the early 80’s, I was determined to be completely present for the birth of my grandchild. As a new father who looked like a teenager, I was treated like a piece of furniture in the delivery rooms during their birth.

“Stand over there,” I was told by a nurse, pointing to a spot out of the way.

I dutifully obeyed and I didn’t budge from that spot. I’ve always regretted that. I acted like a piece of furniture instead of the father of those babies who would be emerging into our world. My spot – and attitude – in the delivery room would be different for my grandchild’s grand entrance.

“Our baby is probably terrified,” my daughter said in between contractions.

“He can’t wait to meet you,” her husband told her.

It was painful to watch my daughter in so much pain. Her teeth were chattering. Her breathing was labored. Her eyes looked scared. The doctor and nurse coached her with firm tenderness.

“Get that baby out, Ashley,” the nurse said. “You can do this. Push harder. That’s it!”

A few minutes later, she gave birth to her baby boy, Landon. The nurse placed baby Landon on his mother’s chest. He immediately opened his eyes to gaze at her. It lasted for a few minutes. It was amazing to watch.

“So cute,” Ashley said, returning Landon’s gaze. “So cute.”

I cradled Landon, joining that privileged club I never cared existed before that moment. I thought to myself the same thing my daughter said moments earlier, “I don’t think I’m ready.”

I’ve been fortunate enough to have had several grandparents in my life. Great-grandparents too. They were remarkable people who loved me unconditionally until their last breath. I had massive shoes to fill for Landon who would call me “Pops” if he someday approved.

I didn’t know what kind of grandfather I would be, just like I didn’t know what kind of father I would be. It’s all about actions, not words or plans or promises. Just being there is monumental for kids and grandkids. Our presence is our most memorable present. I try to keep this in mind every time I’m with Landon.

It’s been five years since his birth. His birthday was Monday. Over the weekend, I spent time with him playing soccer, football, Frisbee, Pickle Ball and anything else he wanted. We bicycled to a park near his home and played tag in his backyard.

“Pops, you are my grandfather!” he told me as I pushed him on a swing.

“Yes, I am. And you are my grandson,” I told him.

On our bike ride, my son-in-law played classic songs from the rock group Queen. Landon sang along as if he was a child from the 1970s, not a 5-year-old kid. We loudly sang the same songs from my childhood. It felt surreal.(Watch a video and view more photos at the online version of this column.)

At one point, Landon stopped running around and said without a hint of prompting, “I love you, Pah.” Right there he showed me what I should be showing him for the rest of my life – unconditional love.

There’s something uniquely profound about being a grandparent. The concept of time seems to be nonexistent when I play with Landon. I’m not thinking as much about plans or work or responsibilities. It’s as if I’m a child again. All of those rumors about grand-parenting seem to be true.

If you’re a grandparent, you may be nodding your head in agreement. If you’re not one, you may be skeptical like I once was. As that nurse said, you won’t know until you know.