Twenty four years ago my mom was pregnant with baby number three, also affectionately known as "the tie-breaker". This was back before you could find out what gender your baby was through ultrasounds. My brother and I had been fighting for roughly nine months over whether we would be getting a baby brother or a baby sister. I was hoping for a girl, and Josh was tormenting me by insisting that he had a psychic link with the baby and it was definitely a boy. I cried myself to sleep on more than one night thinking that I could soon be the only sister to two stinky, yucky boys. (Please remember that I was only eight years old for most of this time, I have since changed my opinion on the yucky-ness of boys...)
We were sent off to school and then went to our next door neighbors' (my friend Tami's) house for the afternoon while our parents were at the hospital having the baby. Josh and I were on pins and needles, and still bickering about who was getting their way over the gender of our new sibling. The phone rang and my friend's mom said, "It's a girl!" Tami and I began to scream the way that only nine year old girls can, and jump and dance around the room. Josh burst into tears. Bitterly disappointed tears. (He was only six.) I don't have a clear memory of what happened after this but knowing myself, and nine year olds in general, I am sure there was some subtle rubbing of salt in the wound as I exulted in the fact that I got my baby sister!
Family came and took us up to the hospital to meet our new sister, and Josh pouted the whole drive there. Soon we were standing at the nursery window gazing with awe at the most beautiful baby in the world. Well, I was gazing in awe. I'm pretty sure Josh was mostly scowling at her for having the nerve to not be a boy. But then our Dad brought her out of the nursery so we could meet her. He held her down where we could see her and Josh reached out and gently rubbed one finger across her forehead. Someone asked him, "What do you think?" "She's a peach," he said softly. At the time he meant the soft downy fuzz that new babies have, but I think he was also foretelling about what a sweet and good little sister she would be. Hmmm, maybe Josh was a little bit psychic after all.
Happy Birthday Caite!
You are still a peach.
Twenty four years ago I was lucky enough to get a sister, today I realize how lucky I was that that sister was you!