When my daughter first told me that she hated the colour pink I was certain she was pregnant.
Strange but true.
My daughter was always a girly girl but was also a modern professional woman. She loved flaunting her femininity in the workplace and brought a great deal of empathy and charm in her practice as an anesthetist. She liked to dress well, have her hair in place and even wear a light lipstick saying that the people she met all day were really quite sick and they would be cheered up seeing someone looking bright and well-groomed. This attitude is quite unlike the attitude of women of an earlier generation who burnt their bras and de-feminised themselves in order to become one of the lads and be considered competent and equal to a man; women of today are unashamed of proclaiming their femaleness and do so with pride and dignity. So when she expressed a distinct aversion to her favourite colour, I knew for certain that she was pregnant , a fact that was confirmed with a home pregnancy test a few days later and reaffirmed with a sonogram a few weeks’ later at the doctor’s clinic.
So how did I know that? Call it maternal instinct.
As a thirty year old mother and a fifty-five year old woman, I knew for certain that my daughter was going to make me a grandmother soon. But yet when she told me that the doctor had confirmed it, I felt a flutter in my stomach. Will I be able to cope with a little one after all these years?
I have always been a stay at home mom, full-time driver of children to their various activities, an inveterate story-teller, agony aunt and keeper of secrets. I’ve helped the children in their school projects, helped them through their college years . I’ve been the family’s tailor, interior decorator, caterer and general dogsbody. Yet I felt a little apprehensive about facing this new career change with this new role.