I’d love grandchildren of my own – being a step-grandparent isn’t the same

When my partner’s elder daughter, Maya, gave birth, she made the sweetest gesture. I’d been in a relationship with her divorced dad, Ronny, for about nine years at that point. She said she’d be happy for her son Kobi to grow up calling me grandma because while there were already four official, genetically linked grandparents, Maya’s mum – who is Brazilian – was going to be called Vovo (the Portuguese term for grandma). So the name was going spare and Maya wanted me to feel included. I didn’t think before I spoke. The words rushed out. “I’m honoured,” I said, “but I’d prefer Kobi to call me Linda or even Lindush (rhymes with ‘Whoosh’, Ronny’s nickname for me). The thing is, I’m kind of saving grandma in case I actually become one.” Maybe it was part superstition, an instinctual feeling that if I gave away the grandma moniker, then I might not become one to my own son. Or if I did become a grandmother, I would have already diluted some special status, even a relationship, I could have with a future blood grandchild. It certainly wasn’t rational, given that my son Thomas, in a committed relationship with a man, has already said that having a child is likely never to be on the horizon. But I still can’t help wishing it. (Photo: Andrew Crowley)

Broodiness for grandchildren

My grand-broodiness is something that crops up whenever I see my son engaging so naturally with small children. It wells up inside whenever I pass grandmothers pushing prams or swings, or chatting with their charges in cafes. Or beaming with pride when the toddler in their care adds a new word to their vocabulary or says something cute. I find myself musing on the kind of hands-on grandma I’d become if Thomas had a child. It arises, too, when one friend tells me that one of her grandchildren has excitedly messaged them with their GCSE results and another has just been asked by her 12-year-old granddaughter to go shopping with her because she thinks her grandma has better taste than her mum. I think what a loving and dedicated dad my son would be and I recall him telling me a few years back that he’d definitely want kids one day. But I realise it would be a daunting enterprise as two dads. I certainly don’t feel, as some women seem to, that their children owe them grandchildren. What I want is for my son to experience the joy of being a parent, just as I did, and for me to witness it and be part of it. But, of course, I respect that it’s their decision, not mine. (Photo: Getty)

Grandparent envy

Being broody for grandchildren is increasingly common. One friend says she feels a kind of achy longing for grandchildren but that both her 35-year-old married daughter, a committed environmentalist who feels the planet is heading for extinction, and her son, a globe-trotting 40-something bachelor with no plans to settle down, are unlikely to ever have kids of their own. “I daren’t even bring the subject up, I feel I have no right,” she tells me. “Frankly, I’m jealous of my friends who are grandparents. When I admit it, they say reassuringly what hard work it is and how much pressure their kids put on them for childcare. But it’s mostly nonsense, they love it.” At 74, it’s only recently that I’ve got the grandparenting bug. I’m sure, partly because for the first time in my life I have fewer work commitments and more time. But also because I’ve witnessed the pleasure Ronny derives from being a grandfather. My partner is not always of the cheeriest disposition. He is prone to existential gloom on a daily basis. So when I see his face flash unmitigated joy whenever his two-and-a-half-year-old grandson munches on an olive with relish, or picks up a twig in the park and examines it intently, I realise I am witnessing a magical connection that is surely, first and foremost, genetic. (Photo: Getty)

No obligation to be a child minder

I watch Rian, Ronny’s other grandson, do exactly the same things via the constant stream of WhatsApp videos or when he visits and I think “soooo sweet”. I am as charmed as I would be by any other cute and characterful toddler. But I am not head over heels in love, as Ronny most certainly is. Although he still works full-time, he has given up a day a week to do childcare. He gets up at 6am, travels across London, and arrives home exhausted – and ecstatic. Ronny’s second daughter, Lora, didn’t offer me the grandma title as Maya did, but she bought me a book on grandmothers soon after Rian was born. A thoughtful gesture and more than a hint that I could get as involved with childcare as I wanted while she works. The truth is, I don’t want to be a child minder on a regular basis and nor do I feel the obligation to be one. (Photo: Getty)

Getting involved as a semi-grandparent

In a world of blended families, there are plenty of ways to get involved as a semi-grandparent. And I do. I have known Kobi since birth. Now nine, a few weeks ago in the Easter holidays, I spent a delightful day with him at the zoo, when his mum had a work commitment and no cover. I bought him sushi (his favourite) for a picnic lunch, cooked him supper, and presented him with new pyjamas (which we keep here for his sleepovers) as he’d grown out of his old ones. I love chatting with him and playing games with him. He is not a great eater, but he always wolfs down my tuna mush. I can make him laugh. He likes me and we have a lovely relationship. If anything tragic happened to either Kobi or Rian’s parents, I’d take full responsibility for those boys without hesitation. I’m still not quite a grandparent, though, and I can’t pretend I feel like one. In evolutionary psychology, the grandmother/grandchild relationship is sometimes framed by the Grandmother Hypothesis, which suggests that the survival of early human children heavily relied on alloparenting (extra caregiving) and the wisdom of older females. This helps explain why women lived long after the menopause when their own reproductive capabilities were halted. And it does make me wonder whether the urge to grandparent has a biological as well as an emotional basis. (Photo: Getty)

Harder to adapt

Today’s grandparenting Baby Boomers – coming up to or already in retirement – find it far harder to adapt to the world of non-work than our parents did. That sense of everyday purpose is difficult to replace, so by turning grandparenting into a proudly held job, a mission of sorts, rather than something that has been a matter-of-course for millennia, it offers a substitute role and something more substantial than ladies’ lunches and trimming the hedge. Perhaps, if I’m honest, that’s another reason why a grandchild of my own would feel so special. As grandparents and those of grandparenting age get closer to death, the sense of continuity that the grandchildren provide is a source of comfort. It’s a tiny tilt at immortality to know that the line lives on. I have a huge affection for the little ones in my life and feel lucky to be regularly in their orbit. But I want to be their trusted and reliable Lindush, not their granny. (Photo: Getty)