I'm an aunt! My little sis (aka Dr. B) had her first child at 11:05 last Friday night, May 24th. My adorable nephew weighed in at 7.5lbs with ten fingers, ten toes and one EPIC HEAD OF BABY HAIR.
Don't worry, Baby B is ineligible for my Epic Baby Hair Contest. It would be way too tempting to hand my newest and littlest relative the crown. Plus, his hair may be epic by normal standards, but he is NO MONCHICHI.
Uncle B did great (as opposed to some other guys I know), fielding phone calls, giving updates and remaining by my sister's side. My favorite quote of his, after witnessing his calm and collected wife doubled over screaming on the floor, was: "Apparently, this birth stuff is pretty painful!"
My sister's labor was as uneventful as labors come which has one major drawback. Having no complications puts you at the very end of the hospital's priority list, meaning, you are last to get checked in, last to get a bed, and last in line to get your epidural. I think my sister wins the award for "Longest Time Left in Triage".
Thanks to Baby B's spectacular timing, I was able to put the kids to sleep, take a cab to the hospital and make it there with just enough time to run into my sister's room, say hi and good luck, and then get kicked out before anybody held a leg up in the air.
One and a half hours later, Baby B was being passed around the hospital room like a collection basket in church on Sunday morning.
Or a loaf of challah on Rosh Hashannah since my family is a big bunch of Jews.
Dr. and Uncle B were so proud, the notoriously private couple even let me post some pictures. Except, if I published post-labor pictures of my sister, I'd probably have all 'aunt responsibilties' rescinded before I had the chance to find out what exactly 'aunt responsibilities' entail.
I think 'aunt responsibilties' have something to do with breathing in the smell of fresh newborn and then handing him to someone else when a diaper needs changing. In which case, this job ROCKS!
Grammy has a pretty good job too which seems to consist of smothering Baby B with kisses before announcing his feet are cold and questioning his lack of socks. Seriously, not five minutes after the baby was born, Grammy freaked out because his feet were blue. My sister was like— Grammy, calm down, that's from the nurse taking his footprints. Oh, I remember those days well.
Mazzy and Harlow met their new cousin on Sunday when everyone came home from the hospital. Mazzy took one look at sleeping Baby B and said "He's so cute!" before deciding she would rather play with the dog.
Harlow made it her business to christen all the never-before-played-with toys by putting each of them in her mouth. I like to think she was acting as her cousin's Personal Safety Patrol and checking for poison.
Mike tried not to act too jealous of Baby B's 'y chromosone' and plotted the day he would run away with him to a Giants game.
As for me, I marveled at their pristine carefully appointed nursery— shelves waiting to be filled with books, drawers waiting to be stuffed with clothes, a crib waiting for it's bedding— and thought about how my nursery was empty and pristine once too. Every toy placed perfectly before anybody could scale a book shelf to reach it. Or twist on a changing table to knock the basket of diaper creams on the floor. Or pull out every pair of pajamas before finding the one with the monkeys on them.
I watched my sister and her husband cuddle their new baby between them on the couch and felt both jealous their family was just beginning and glad I didn't have to start all over again.
Congratulations, Dr. B. You are entering the most amazing time in your life. I have no worries about you. You are more prepared for motherhood than anyone I know. Just please, don't let that stop you from asking for help.
My only wish is that I can be as wonderful an aunt to your child as you have been to mine.