Life

I am officially a firm believer that you know absolutely nothing about life until you are present when it comes into the world for the first time. When you get to hear that first breath, followed by that first cry.

Yesterday, my baby sister brought life into the world. 

Arriving at the hospital around 2 in the afternoon (with no thought of how I was going to get home should the baby come before Matt got off work at midnight), I was happy to see that her pain had been subdued thanks to modern medicine and a very kind medical staff. As friends and family filed in and out of the room for most of the day and we tried to make Kristine laugh, insisting that she choose ahead of time her favourite curse words that she would shout during labor.

Around 5pm, labor seemed to stop and we had to reposition her to help move the baby in order to speed things along. Apparently though, moving somehow makes the meds wear off and that became very evident pretty quickly. I stayed by her bedside, suddenly the protective older sister, casting warning glances to any nurse or doctor that dared to make a sound and possibly wake her up. I ran my hands through her hair, hoping to relax her even just a little bit. I was reminded of similar moments growing up together when one of us gently stroked the others hair while we cried over heartbreak, sickness, and even grief.

As I usually do when in a medical situation, my emotional self turned off and I went into some sort of machine mode where I helped the nurses adjust pillows, blankets and even began handing off materials as my sister was examined. Then, around 7 at night when the hospital made a shift change, a new midwife came in and said, "Hey! We can start having a baby!"

Which was odd timing considering the nurse before said we would have hours to go, so everyone but myself, Kristine and her boyfriend had left the room to get dinner. I was glad however to hear that my sister wanted me to stay. I think if she had made me leave I would have sat outside the room with my ear to the door, sweating nervously the whole time.

Eventually two of Kristine's friends joined us and the team went to work (mostly Kristine though). We held her, cooled her down with fans and cold rags and said the typical encouraging words. In the middle of delivery I couldn't help but ask, "How the hell did you shave your legs and paint your toenails nine months pregnant?!"

With less than one hour of pushing and a severely worn off epidural, my baby sister, who once cried while getting a tattoo, grew stronger than I ever thought possible, and at 8:05pm, became a mother. Nurses took over and one of her friends and I fell into a puddle of tears at the foot of the bed when we heard the baby cry for the first time. Apparently I'm one of those people. Those people who cry at births and weddings and other gooey emotional stuff. Yup. I'm a sappy sap.

And then, Kristine, who had never held a baby before in her entire life, took to motherhood faster than I ever could have imagined. One minute she was laying there, simply my baby sister. The little girl who couldn't pronounce 'birth certificate'. The girl who I fought with for years during the dreaded teendom. The little girl who sat with me watching Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion while eating Cup o' Noodles and talking about our latest crushes.

A minute later, she was a Mom.
And a damn good one.

I'm so proud of her I can't even begin to find appropriate words.

Welcome to the world, and to our family, my newest little nephew . . . Trey.

He's already one of us.