First baby
Fourteen years ago today, I was in Houston on a business
trip, and I got the call from my brother-in-law: “Her water broke. We’re on our way to the hospital.”
I called my boss, who was waiting for me in the lobby of the
hotel where I was staying, and explained that I wouldn’t be joining him and our
other colleagues at the oil-and-gas trade show today. And then I took off in the direction of the
hospital in my rental car.
It was just luck that brought me to Houston that week. I thought for sure the baby would have been
born by the time I arrived for my scheduled trip, and my sister and I had taken a long walk
around the park the night before, hoping baby would decide to make an
appearance soon. She was already a week
past her due date, and she was ready.
More than ready. My sister has
always been steady as a rock, and nothing disconcerts her. May in
Houston is typically humid and hot already, and my sister and I walked slowly and
deliberately around the track as we talked and laughed.
Me, on the other hand… I’m a worrier. Untethered.
Brash and loud next to her quiet and calm. After I got the call that
morning, I raced to the hospital, my excitement building. I was going to be an AUNT. I was going to hold a baby; a baby who was
related to me. It would be ten years before I
would have a baby of my own and understand what it really meant to have
one.
Arriving at my sister’s bedside, she was in full labor and I
could see she was in a lot of pain. This
was my baby sister; it hurt me to see her hurt.
I reached out to touch her arm, and she groaned and said, “Please. Don’t touch me.” I was at a loss. I had no idea how to help her, and I wanted to pace and beg someone to make it better for her. I forced myself to calm down. Not long after that, I left the room for her
to get an epidural, and when I saw her again, she was resting comfortably, and
together we watched in awe as her contractions were recorded.
When she was ready to push, it was time for me to go so that just she and her husband would witness the birth of
their firstborn child, and I anticipated the arrival excitedly in the waiting room, calling my
mom every 15 minutes or so with breathless updates.
Finally, I got the news:
I was the aunt to a perfect baby girl.
Ten fingers, ten toes, and a healthy wail.
Within an hour, I was invited in and I got to hold my new
niece.
I was in awe. I was
in love. I didn’t want to leave her
side. But I did; I let my sister and my
brother-in-law enjoy the time with their baby daughter for three days while I
went back to doing the work I had come to Houston to do. I stayed in the hotel until the trade show
was finished, and then joined my sister and her newly expanded family at their
little apartment.
I slept on the day bed in the living room, and I took care
of my niece for a couple of hours at a time so that my sister could sleep. Not knowing any better, I would fall asleep
on the day bed with my niece sleeping peacefully on my chest. I had no anxiety. No worry.
I spent the moments just soaking it all in.
I wish I could have remembered how comfortable and relaxed I
was with my niece when I had my son. It
was pure love and no angst.
This is what I want to tell my "first baby", my niece, as she
turns 14:
1. I love you.
I’ve always loved you from the moment I knew you existed, and I always will love you. You were the baby I got to hold and love and
spoil first; you were my practice. I got
to hold you in your first hour of life, and I think that’s part of the reason
we are so close.
2. You look like me, which is both
amazing and wonderful to me. When you were
smaller, people thought that you were MY daughter all the time. And in some ways, you are like me more
than your mother. You’re outgoing, and
creative, and – let’s be honest – a little dramatic. Just like me. It's probably the reason we clash and butt heads; because we're a lot alike.
3. I respect the way you do your own thing You sew your own clothes, eschew the popular culture at school deliberately, and you choose your friends carefully. You don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Or perhaps you are very good at pretending that you don’t, even at 14.
4. You are precious. Don’t ever forget it. I know you have read much of my blog and you know some of the things I have been through in my life. I hope you will take some of my stories as cautionary tales and not repeat my mistakes. Keep your strength and don’t let anyone tell you that you are worth less than you are. And teach your sisters the same. They look up to you.
5. Your sisters are your best friends. I know they drive you crazy sometimes, and it’s hard to see it. Your mom and I drove each other crazy until she was your age, and after that point we became two halves of a clamshell. When we’re together, it’s as if I just saw her yesterday, and I love her more than I can say. Someday, you and your sisters will forge new relationships as adults, and it has the potential to be some of the most beautiful things in your life.
Happy birthday, my sweet girl. I love you and your sisters so much.
Love,
Aunt Kristin