You may have to read the title a couple of times before you realize it’s an autocorrected text from my daughter the night of her first prenatal class.

Then you get it.

At 33 weeks, after monthly appointments, a handful of ultrasounds, the painting of the nursery, a shower with adorable tiny clothes and too cute for words accessories not to mention stacks and piles of necessities, it took one night at the hospital in a prenatal class for sh*t to get real.

I chuckle, but then I wonder… Is it real for ME yet?

I’m going to be a GRANDMOTHER.

I mean, hello! I have friends whose kids graduated college this past weekend. I have friends whose kids attended prom. I have friends whose kids are entering high school in the fall and friends with kids who are entering junior high. I have friends whose kids are younger than my dogs and we waited a long time to get dogs.

I also have friends whose kids have kids and I know, I’m in a good place.

We just celebrated Mother’s Day and even though she isn’t on the mother side of this pregnancy yet, it was a special day. For my daughter. For our family. We all know what’s coming and we’re all very excited but it’s… still… so… far… away. June 25th! Geesh.

Showers are being planned, the crib is assembled. Every day conversational topics include outtie belly buttons, diaper disposal, and nursing pads, circumcision, epidurals, and in utero baby hair induced heartburn.

And yet…

I don’t think it will be real for me until I’m holding that newborn.
And I recommend that when you hand me that baby, you make sure I’m sitting.

Because shut just got real.