Baby showers became a “thing” following World War II, when the Baby Boomer generation did just that.
It is a means of friends and family coming together to celebrate this new life and “shower” the expectant parents with gifts that they may need with this new little one.
The gifts have evolved since the ’40’s. Strollers have wheels designed for off-road running. Car seats are imperative. Monitors that were not available 30 years ago sell like hot cakes. https://www.amazon.com/Monitor-Remote-Pan-Tilt-Zoom-Camera-Infrared/dp/B07N428WP1/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=baby+monitor&qid=1624974980&sr=8-3
Diaper bags, sleepers, toys remain classic.
What to give to my first grand-child? More importantly, to his expectant parents.
I know what I needed in the midst of new motherhood – sleep, stronger arms, helping hands just to juggle a newborn, cooking and laundry. My spouse traveled extensively.
As my son grew, I wish I had more patience, time to read to him and just play.
I think it is universal. How can we go back and do it over? Better? So much of the Newborn Period passes like a fog with me shluffing along, hoping to remember what is now a blur.
I cannot give them what every new parent wishes they had – time. And as that child grows they will want even more.
As he teethes, they will wonder isn’t this too soon? I thought I had more time before this happened?
As he takes his first steps, they will think, wow this is happening so fast! We just brought him home from the hospital.
Before they know it, he will be graduating and they will be mourning and celebrating.
It is just the way it works.
I found the quilt my grandmother made for my son and packed it up for the shower.
I cannot give what I don’t have – extra time.
I can give them the legacy of strong mothers who have gone before. This quilt to my grandson was made by his great-great-grandmother.
It tells us all that time keeps marching forward. Today’s mother could someday be a grandmother.
I remember crying as my mother got ready to leave after helping with my third baby. She would generally stay for a week helping me with cooking, laundry, the children.
“Mom, I don’t know what I was thinking. How will I handle three kids?” I sobbed.
“Like every mother before you, the best you can,” she reassured me.
And I did.
The best I could.