You are finally here, you stubborn little nugget. You made your mama wait an extra week. An extra week of contractions and discomfort. An extra week of trying all the secrets to inducing labor. She tried castor oil, walking, spicy food, relaxing, hypnosis, primrose oil tablets, and everything women told her she should try, but God chose January 4th for your arrival.
Your mama labored for 10 hours with you. She did a great job. She didn’t think she could, but we all knew she would. You caused some problems on your way out, and while your grandma, and Aunt Joan, and I were looking at you, are hearts ached for your mama in surgery. So we prayed for her and kissed your cheeks some more. When she came back all stitched up, we were so happy. You got each other back.
I used to wonder what it would be like when your mama or I had a baby. We’d get to feel what all the other mamas got to feel and ache like all the other mamas ached. I wondered what a baby would feel like when she kicks for the first time. My favorite part of your journey here was seeing your mama feel you kicking.
I never anticipated the love I’d feel for you and my sister. I didn’t know what it would be like to see her fall in love with her baby. I didn’t know that loving you would feel so different from loving my baby siblings. Your mama and I are roommates, bunk mates, and snuggle buddies. We’ve shared everything together, and you feel like a piece of my heart, just like her. A whole new place in my heart opened for you like it had been waiting for you to arrive all along.
I can’t wait to watch my sister mother you. I can’t wait to see what you teach her. I can’t wait to see you grow. I can’t wait to see what you love and what your talents are. You are a miracle.
I love you forever.
Your Aunt Hannah