By Marci Seither, Contributing Writer

About 7:30 p.m. on Thursday, July 16, we got a phone call from our son–in-law, Thomas, whom I lovingly refer to as my bonus boy.

Not just any call. THE CALL.

The moment I had been anticipating for exactly 185 days. Our oldest daughter, Emma, was checked into the hospital and in labor with our first grand baby.

Knowing that Emma’s due date had already passed and we were now living in “overtime”, I told our two teens, Amy and Jack, that they needed to be ready at a moments notice.

“30 minutes is all I am giving you before I back out of the driveway!” I reminded them daily as Emma neared the date I had circled on the calendar. They rolled their eyes.

I tossed stuff into my suitcase, grabbed a few things I thought I might need, filled not just one, but two travel mugs with coffee, and kissed the soon-to-be grandpa goodbye. At 8:30p.m., we headed out. We made it to Fresno in the early morning hours, spent the night, and finished the journey the next morning.

Quietly we entered room 125, where a perfect bundle wrapped like an oversized burrito, lay in the acrylic bassinet next to Emma’s bed. Her lips, perfect rose petals against ivory skin, looked just like I remembered Emma’s looking almost 28 years earlier. She was beautiful.

My voice caught in my throat. “Can I?” Emma and Thomas beamed as I read the name on the card at the head of the bassinet. Her middle name was the same as mine.

Lifting her into my arms, my heart melted into rivulets of salty tears that fell onto the printed receiving blanket.

This is what matters most. Not the dishes left undone. Not status. Not even the things on my to-do list. This moment. Love in the purist form, wrapped a soft blanket, and placed near my heart.

A few days later, I took some pictures of my parents with little Avila. While John and I had just become grandparents for the first time, our parents roles just got greater. Looking at little Avila in my dad’s big hands, her tiny fingers wrapped around his, I marveled at the passage of time. One generation giving birth to another generation. Four generations.

In a blink of an eye, she will be grown, just like her mother. Older ladies used to stop me in the grocery store when I was a young mom and had a baby in a front pack, one child in the cart and one holding onto the side, and tell me to cherish every moment. They would stare deep into the cherub faces of my children and then into mine and tell me that the Cheerio years go quick. I heard them and nodded. But, I never fully understood until now, seeing my new grand baby. They were right. The years were mere vapor that dissipated like the morning mist.

Looking back, I fully understand that it is easy to get preoccupied with the little things in life that we loose our focus on being fully present in the moment.

I had a cross stitched poem that hung for years in our home and was packed away a few moves ago. I think I will pass it on to my daughter.

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow, for babies grow up we have learned to our sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep, I am rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

7 Things young moms need to know.

1. Take time to play in the park with your kids..the dishes can wait.

2. Read out loud, even if you just read the same book 48 times.

3. Keep a journal of all the funny things your kids say..no matter how much you think you will remember them at the time. You won’t.

4. There are a lot worse things in life than feeling like a scrath and sniff. You won’t always smell like peanut butter and baby burbs.

5. Kids usually eat out of the dog dish at least once. They will live.

6. Unmatched socks and home haircuts are not going to require counseling when they are adults.

7. God loves your kids even more than you do.