Tuesday, September 11, 2007

My first baby boy

Somewhere around the age of three, I decided I wanted a baby brother. And when I say "decided," what I really mean is "began demanding." I begged my mother for a baby brother, and watched her belly expectantly. When that didn't pan out, I wrote a letter to Santa. I pleaded with my grandmother to send me one for my birthday. I asked all of my mom's dates if they thought they could help me out (which could explain why many of them were never seen or heard from again). Oddly enough, the one person I never thought to ask was my dad. But nonetheless, on this very day in 1980, my perfect little baby brother was plucked from the womb of my step-mother, and jammed firmly into my heart.


He was born one month before my fifth birthday, and I thought he was my present. Perhaps that's why, from the very beginning, I considered him MY baby. I wanted to feed him, change his diapers, read to him, play with him, rock him to sleep. I would cry on the way home from a weekend at my dad's house, because I couldn't bear the thought of being away from him for two whole weeks.

Because of the living situation, I know to him I was always his "other" sister. But to me, he was that one thing that I wanted with all my heart, and actually got.



Happy birthday, little brother.

1 comment:

krmore said...

He does make a fine little brother. That's one of my favorite baby pictures of you two together. Weren't you guys cute.

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