My only son, Julian, had moved several states away with his wife, Chloe, three years earlier.

So when they announced they were expecting their first child, I reacted like exactly the kind of future grandmother who gets politely mocked in family group chats.

I bought clothes before anyone knew the sex.

Sent crib recommendations.

Offered to visit.

Asked whether Chloe needed help preparing the nursery.

Every time, Julian said some version of:

“Mom, wait until the baby arrives.”

Or:

“Chloe’s tired.

We’re keeping things quiet.”

Or:

“You’ll have all the grandmother time you want once he’s here.”

I respected it.