In the past, I’d congratulated my friends when they’d become grandparents, and fended off questions as to whether we would become grandparents too. “Possibly. One day…” I’d say. How could I tell them that for years our daughter had tried and tried to be a mother, through pain and tears, operations and rounds of IVF. I was relieved when she said that enough was enough, and that she and her fiance would try and adopt.
So began a year of interviews and form-filling, each one leading to the day when they could finally have a child to call their own. We were interviewed too, just to see how much we supported our daughter’s choice. I remember nervously pacing the floor, waiting for the social worker to arrive, but it all went well and we were soon chatting away, drinking coffee and eating biscuits, as if we’d known her for years.
When our daughter and her fiance were matched with a little girl we were thrilled. But matching was only the start, and they had lots of visits and more meetings to attend before they could bring her home. I don’t know how they managed that last week, driving from their house to the foster parents’ house every day, meeting Little Pink for the first time, playing with her under supervision, learning what the little girl liked to do and eat. Then taking her for walks and, at last, a trip to her new home. Every evening our daughter rang us with a progress report. It was so exciting!
And then Little Pink came home. We couldn’t wait to meet her, but we had to wait until the time was right. At last, a short meeting was engineered and we met our daughter and our granddaughter for the first time in the park. I don’t mind admitting I was nervous. Suppose I didn’t take to her. But I needn’t have worried. Little Pink was fast asleep in her buggy. She was beautiful and I couldn’t take my eyes off her, wanted to touch her hair, stroke her cheek. She was my granddaughter! Until then I hadn’t realised how much I wanted to be a granny. Little Pink’s Celebration Hearing, surrounded by her forever family, was one of the happiest days in all our lives. The photo of her laughing on that day is still stuck on my fridge door, despite fading and curling at the edges.
Three years later I love spending time with Little Pink. We play with her toys, make cakes and crafts, sit and chat, read a book or cuddle up in front of the TV. Seeing her snuggled up on her grandad’s lap makes my heart sing. I now have a second grandchild, a little boy, but Little Pink was my first, my lovely and very much loved granddaughter. One day, I’ll explain to her how much her arrival meant to us all. She changed our lives for the better and, God knows, we wouldn’t have it any other way!
Little Pink’s Granny
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