Sheila Sybrant

It wasn’t love at first sight.

For me, it was love BEFORE first sight. For her — well, she’s still not quite sure about me yet.

I’m talking about my granddaughter, who was born this past week and made me a grandmother for the first time.

Her name? I’ll get to that. First, a funny story about her name.

She was born late at night on Monday, and our son called my husband and me to tell us the good news — but told us that they were still undecided about which of two names to bestow upon her.

On Tuesday morning, I got up and went outside to do chores. My husband, already long up, was halfway across the yard. “Good morning, Grandpa,” I yelled to him.

“Good morning, Grandma,” my husband yelled back. (At least, that’s what I thought he yelled back.)

“Nana!” I yelled back, trying to convey that I had finally decided on what I wanted my grandchild to call me — “Nana” instead of “Grandma.”

“Anna?” my husband yelled back questioningly.

“NANA!” I yelled back again. (It might have been easier for us to just walk closer to each other to communicate — but, hey, you know what they say about hindsight.)

“Oh. That’s a nice name,” he responded.

Later in the morning, we were in the pickup together, and he asked, “So, what’s the baby’s middle name?”

I was confused, of course, because the baby did not even have a first name at that point. “They haven’t decided on a name yet,” I said, trying to be patient even though I couldn’t understand why he didn’t understand this basic fact.

“I thought you said it was ‘Nana,’ ” he said, equally confused.

“‘Nana’ is MY name,” I said with a laugh. “That’s the name I’ve decided to be called instead of ‘Grandma.’ ”

“I asked you what her name was,” he said, somewhat annoyed, “and you said it was ‘Nana.’ ”

Apparently, instead of “Good morning, Grandma,” he had said, “What’s her name, Grandma?”

After we got that all sorted out, he said, “I wondered why they were giving her a ‘grandma’ name.”

(My son found it quite admirable of his father to say that he liked whatever name he thought the baby was given.)

In fact, the baby’s name is Landri Nicole Sybrant, which is beautiful and unique — and definitely less confusing than if we were both named Nana.

I held her for the first time when they returned from the hospital on Wednesday.

I looked at her with love in my eyes. I’d like to say that she looked back at me the same way, awed by her wonderful grandmother and feeling an immediate connection. Rather, she looked at me with something more akin to guarded suspicion at first — after which she made her decision about me … and began to cry.

All of my usual baby overtures were rejected. She did stop crying for a short time when I sang to her — but then apparently determined that I don’t have a very appealing singing voice. She was also patient and gave me the benefit of the doubt for a few minutes while I walked her around the house, pointing out items of interest, but her interest waned quickly. And she did like our stint in the rocking chair — for a while.

Eventually, I turned her over to my son, whom she clearly loves. So, I’m thinking that because I’m related to him, she’ll come around.

I’ll just keep loving her until she has no choice but to love me back.

Readers may contact Sheila at svsybrant@gmail.com or 45092 859th Road, Bassett, NE 68714.

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