Spring-born

I'm an auntie again!

Sunday was shaping up to be a regular sort of day when a phone call came in from my mom letting me know that my sister's water had unexpectedly broken that morning, even though her baby wasn't due for another four weeks. It was really, truly, very difficult to concentrate on anything that day. L. also had an extremely daunting writing assignment to work on and, if we'd planned better, we might have worked on it last weekend, instead of saving it for Sunday. When L. was little we used to give him "false" deadlines for things, because he was so unable to plan ahead and grasp the idea of a long-term goal, and how to work towards it. Now that he's ten, though, false deadlines don't work so well. Sometimes the only way to get on top of an assignment like that is to spend a week verbally reminding L. of it, over and over again, and setting down a deadline that, alas, kind of resembles the actual due date.

Two hours and much heartache and drama later, the assignment was done. Sort of.

And I was utterly wrecked.

I sat at the table, the aftermath of the process scattered around me: post-it notes, the dog-eared book that formed the basis for the assignment, my attempts to provide L. with graphic organizers to help him conceptualize the paper assignment, balled up tissue, several pens and I thought about my sister. I ached to be there with her, or at least outside the hospital room door. I thought about the small, promise-filled life that would soon enter the world, and I imagined my sister going through the ordeal--because it certainly is one--of labor and delivery. A new life! A new part of our family--a loving, beautiful family that has grown over the years so much, and in such amazing ways. And while I was filled with emotion when my brother's children were born, I can't describe the emotion I felt yesterday when I heard that my sister's baby was on his way, or the emotion I feel today when I imagine, in my mind's eye, my sister holding her child. I am in awe of her, even though I always knew she was filled with heart and courage.

I thought about how huge and overwhelming the pain of birth can seem--larger than yourself, larger than you thought pain could ever be, yet you conquer it in the end and feel triumphant.

And then you look down between your legs and just can't fathom that an actual person came out of you; or you hold your child in your arms and can't believe that you are lucky enough to have this chance--this opportunity that is like none other. Then I thought about what I know now--that welcoming that new child into the world is a great and magnificent thing but it is, truly, the easiest part of it all.

When I texted a good friend of mine last night to tell her that my sister's baby had been born, she sent me back the following:

Babies are miracles! Send sleepy, wrinkly, frog-leg pictures soon! Tell your sister that each year the whole world begins anew for her spring-born son!

And so it will.

 

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