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My first stint with baby Alexa was not so difficult. There was a rocking bassinet and various toys. I learned that babies cry mainly when they’re hungry or tired, so I was always ready with a bottle. When that didn’t work, I would take her for a walk. Just holding her was divine, nap time was heaven for both of us.
Even with fumbling fingers, I quickly became adept at changing nappies and applying nappy rash cream. Small rivets on baby outfits quickly drove me insane, and on my next tour of duty I brought a tonne of Australian baby clothes over with me (we get the rivets right!).
The greatest pleasure was taking her out in the stroller. All babies are beautiful, but some more than others. Alexa was a poster baby, every facial feature exquisitely perfect, her cheeks perfectly chubby. I felt pride when strangers would comment, “what a beautiful baby” or “cute kid”.
It gave me a sense of lineage – this was my bloodline, my evolutionary contribution. I was already so proud of her, notwithstanding her two uncontrollable apertures, and already imagining the brilliant future she would have, hoping that I would be around long enough to see her first graduation, even from secondary school.
My second stint was much more challenging. Having read that single children of single parents had the most difficulties in life (after the children of psychiatrists and diplomats), my daughter was pregnant again.
It was summer, and taking Alexa to the park or playground was my go-to solution to passing the day. Here I encountered the army of nannies that look after young kids. Most spent the day on the phone, none spoke to me – I was the anomaly. Only on weekends did I see other grandparents, where I thought, “for you this is happy entertainment, for me, it is a serious commitment”.
Jaque Grinberg with his granddaughter in New York City.
The days were sometimes lonely, comprising the playground, shopping, preparing dinner, and cleaning. When my daughter came home, I would want to talk to her (or just talk to someone). But she was tired and wanted to focus on Alexa. It was so familiar from when I used to come home from work and she was the child, but now the shoe was on the other foot.
My third bout, now with a baby and a toddler, was even more complex and challenging, especially when they were cooped up in the apartment over winter. I had seen battlegrounds before, but the apartment at the end of each day gave disorder and chaos a new meaning.
The developmental challenge was to get Alexa to speak. Baby talk videos didn’t seem to help, and for the first time I felt truly inadequate. Mothers talk to babies in a high-pitched over-expressive tone, using smiles and body language to elicit speech. But I couldn’t replicate that.
I felt responsible when she missed her speech milestones, and despite my inventive efforts, she wasn’t eating properly – only pasta and rice but no vegetables, in any disguise. Plus, she was watching far too much TV. In my last month, I was also deeply fatigued. I had lost five kilos, and it was time to go home and recharge.
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Until becoming a Grananny, I had never fully appreciated the effort, the sacrifices, and the needs of motherhood. I don’t think many fathers do, and that is regrettable. Bringing up little children is as tough and all-consuming as any job I have ever had. Mothers live in a parallel world of sacrifice and hardship. Being with babies humanises you. They have no one else to attend to their needs. You are totally responsible, and that realisation produces the strongest bond and purest love.
Being a parent is good, but being a grandparent is better. Each time I return to Australia I exercise, eat well, and build my strength for the next bout, which will be in September. I have a lot to live for, and I thank my brave daughter for that gift.
Jaque Grinberg is a former diplomat and UN peacekeeper who served in the former Yugoslavia and the DR Congo.
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