Maybe Grandkids Aren’t in the Cards: Learning to Love the Life My Kids Choose

Y’all, let me be real with you for a minute. Growing up, I always pictured myself being that grandmother one day. 👵🏾 You know, the kind of grandma whose grandkids came running through the house like my nieces and nephews did when I was young with my parents. Back then, their dad and I would sit and dream about our future—how we needed to stay together, not just for our kids but for those grandkids we just knew would be coming one day.

We even said things like, “We gotta stick it out so our grandbabies have their grandparents under one roof.” At the time, “family legacy” meant surviving the hard times together, protecting our kids, and making sure no random folks were raising our children. We were intentional about that.

But let me tell you when it first hit me that maybe being a grandmother wasn’t gonna be part of my story. Jr was in about 7th or 8th grade, and honestly, even younger than that, I knew he was different. Once it was out in the open, I thought, “Okay, maybe MaKenzye will give me a grandchild one day.” She was still young at that time, so I just tucked that little dream away.

Now, I’m not gonna sit here and fake it like I didn’t feel something. The truth? It was sadness. 💔 You grow up thinking about how your kids’ lives might look, and when it doesn’t match that picture, it stings. But then I had to check myself. Didn’t my own parents have dreams for me that I didn’t exactly live out? They were proud of me, but I know some of my choices disappointed them. And yet—they still loved me. That part stuck.

If I keep it 1000 with y’all, my conversations with my kids back then weren’t always pretty. I said some things that I know hurt. Not because I didn’t love them, but because I was still learning how to let go of control. I thought being a mom meant shaping everything, but God had to show me—these kids belong to Him first.

And listen, seeing my sister and friends step into their grandparent era? Whew. It’s bittersweet. I’m happy for them, truly. I cheer with them, I love on their grandkids, and I show up. But then I come home to my quiet house, and there are moments I feel left out. Most of my friends are already in the grandparent conversation, and me? I just sit that one out. God is still able though… I’m just saying. 🙏🏾

Now don’t get it twisted—this is not a “bash my kids” blog. 👏🏾 I love my babies for who they are. They’re kind, they’re living their own truths, and let me tell you, they’re OUT OF MY POCKETS. Lol lol. That alone is a blessing. I even joke with MaKenzye that if she gave me a grandbaby, we’d all pitch in—my mom and me—set up a little suite in the guest room and spoil that baby rotten. I even had a name in my head: MaKenny. Don’t ask me why 😂 but it stuck.

But here’s what I really love about my kids: they are unapologetically themselves. They don’t worry about what people think, and it took me almost half my life to learn that. MaKenzye surprised me by becoming a barber and loving it. Jr is still figuring things out, but he hasn’t asked me for money in months (praise God 🙌🏾), and that lets me know he’s walking his path.

So, what does legacy mean now? To me, it’s what I leave behind for them. And I pray when my time comes, they use it to bless others, stay kind, pay their bills on time, keep good credit, and remember without God, nothing is possible.

Now, let me keep it all the way real with y’all about those moments that sneak up on me. Like the other day—I went to watch a friend’s son play football. I was clapping, recording, living in the moment with them. But driving home, it hit me: I never had that moment of cheering on my own son in a jersey or my daughter in pom-poms. Yes, MaKenzye played basketball and Jr was in theater and fashion, and I showed up for them. But it was just… different.

And because I know myself, I didn’t sit in that feeling too long. I called my sister Inger right away. I said, “Sis, I’m feeling some type of way,” and she just listened. She didn’t judge, she didn’t preach at me. She reminded me, “We don’t know what God can do.” And before long, we were laughing about something else. That’s what support looks like. 🫂

See, the devil wanted me to sit in sadness, comparing what I didn’t have. But my kids are alive, healthy, and here with me. That’s a blessing some parents don’t get. So, sorry devil—you lost that one. 💥 Pumpkin.

To my kids—if you ever read this, know that Momma loves y’all dearly. This is our journey, our truth, and maybe it’ll help another parent who’s walking the same road. Keep being amazing. Remember, you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. 💕

And to every parent out there—love your children no matter what. You don’t have to agree with everything about their life, but you do have to love them. That’s exactly what God does for us. Sometimes it’s about shifting our expectations and leaving room for God to be God. 🙌🏾