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So, this morning my son called me.
"Whatup, Granny?" says he.
This means that as of today I am a grandmother. The baby in question is a girl, quite a big one too, brought to this world by some nice and able doctors by an emergency Caesarian early this morning. The C-section came about as a result of the baby's heart rate slowing down while her oxygen levels dropped. My son and his fiancée decided that they would not take any chances - especially since fiancée had been in labour for a good 12 hours.
My son sounded tired but pleased when he called. They have a small family room at the hospital, which means that he would be able to sleep alongside the mother and the baby once all the "cleaning up" was done. Which made me a lot happier as it meant he didn't have to drive home after more than 24 hours without sleep!
Now I'm just wondering how I ended up in the third generation...
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