When I think about being a grandma, I feel like I should be older, more patient, have money, be able to spoil him, take him places. Instead, I walk with him and his aunt to the park. I drag them to the library because “grandma loves books.” I play music loud in the car and plan my next tattoo. All things I guess grandma’s don’t do. Or maybe they do. I do anyway.
I’m a huge Legend of Zelda fan — my daughter is even named after one of my favorite characters in the series. So it was a no-brainer for me when coming up for a theme for my baby shower — of course it’d be Zelda!
We recently found out my 16-year-old sister is pregnant — and everyone’s world has been turned upside down. I’m only 22, and not sure if I’m ready to rock aunthood or would rather do my own thing.
I do believe some of my struggles directly deal with my age. I was a first-time mom at 17 and am on my way to having a second before I turn 20. Shit is sure to follow. I occasionally get eyeballed during toddler playgroups and sometimes blatantly questioned about my age by curious mothers. It really isn’t that big of a deal, though. The only time that ever bothers me is if it’s followed by sympathy or straight-up negativity — it just seems silly to me. Could you imagine asking a mother her age and then apologizing for it?
I recently saw my daughter for the first time in about a year. She turned 6 this past fall, is going to school, and looks just like me. She calls me by my name. I think if she ever called me her mother, I’d cry as I corrected her. She may be my daughter, but I am not her active parent, her active mother. I am her birthmom — not as a derogatory term, but simply as a clarification. A different type of mother.