My sister’s baby turned 3 weeks yesterday. And she drove up to my house, a 30 minute drive. And if you’re a mom, you probably remember your first drive with your baby. Not the one home from the hospital, but the one where you knew you had to prove it to yourself that you could. To let your baby know you’re a strong independent woman, even though you may have still been rocking a gigantic pad on that first ride.

I have so much to say about my sister becoming a mom. Her birth story has become entwined in all of mine. So many similarities, but of course, right? Why wouldn’t it be? We’re sisters for goodness sake, and we have done a lot of life’s big moments together.

But none as big as this. And for the first time in both of our adult lives, we are both mothers. A reminder that came in through a text late last night from her. We’re both mommies, and our mom isn’t here to witness it. Or be a part of it. Or spoil us, or poke a little fun at us, or hog the baby from us. She’s just, not here.

For ten years, we’ve talked about all the future things our mom would miss, and we knew certain days would be hard. And that on some occasions, we’d be able to control the mood or the setting, so the sting doesn’t burn as bad. But for others, you just have to let it burn. I didn’t see a crash of sadness coming; but I remember knowing it would. 

By morning light, on October 18th, my little nephew, Leo, made his entrance into the world. From heaven, all the way to earth. Through my little sister. A special bond, tied tighter, and made stronger inside the walls of the hospital rooms we made memories in. Over 40 hours of labor, several shift changes, and an early morning delivery – my sister became a mother. From second one, she was a natural. This little girl who had grown up before my eyes was now a mommy.

I won’t ever be able to find words to say who my sister has been to me over the years. She’s been an entire family inside one person (her words not mine — but damn I wish I said it first) to me, and my kids. And now it’s my turn to return the favor. She’s listened to me sob, scream, reason with myself and God. She’s been silent and let me speak for hours on end about the same problem. She’s driven up to sit with me on some of the hardest days of my life. She’s always seen me; validated me, told me when I was wrong, and she’s loved me anyway. We’ve read the most sacred words out loud to people we loved, on their death bed, we slept in bed together on nights we were scared or sad, and we held our mother’s hands as she took her last breath. And now, after all of that, my sister and I both know what it feels like to carry a little golden life inside our bodies. We both know what it’s like to bridge the gap between heaven and earth. And I don’t know a bond that could hold much more power than that.

My sister became a mommy; and I can already see the similarities and differences in our mothering. All good things and reflections of who we each are at our core. Today, her baby looked at me and his eyes felt so familiar. Like I’ve known him before, or forever, or both, and he looked at me the same. His eyes were curious but confident, like he was looking far beyond my eyes and into a space where time and pain do not exist. His eyes looked understanding, like he knows warmth, and love and light. The entire time we looked at eachother, it felt like home inside his gaze. My sister gave this gift to me. And I can’t help but think, by some miracle, he met our mom before he came here. I think his life will be a beautiful one, constantly giving proof that there is something bigger and greater than us. I think his life will be full and robust with joy, happiness and of course, health.

 In  my mom’s passing I’ve always tried to reason why. And the truth is, I will never know; why I have to go on missing her, and then missing her for my kids, and now missing her for my sister and her kids too. I have to go on, knowing she never got to know Ace, Veni, and Leo the way she knew Mav. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to comprehend that. But for now, and for the rest of my life, I can count on my baby sister for completing me in a way only a sister knows how. A sister who has held my hand in hospital rooms, who I’ve laughed and cried with, who has raised my babies, and now I get to help her raise hers.

Maybe that’s it, the circle of life that appears in an ongoing, beautiful and broken spiral. Where life is full of blessing after blessing with teensy little nuances inside each one. With moments of complete and utter perfection making their presence known every now and again. With a person you just met, but who made you understand love at first sight. Even if he was only 9 pounds and 7 ounces.

Thanks Allie Pie, for making me an aunt, for giving me a new favorite person to love, and for reminding me how sacred our sister bond really is 🩵