The moment she announced her growing family, we all shrieked with joy. And I mean SHRIEKED. No one was expecting it. We were all just so happy to be together. About 25 family members were holding hands in our living room, saying grace over the fragrant and long awaited Thanksgiving feast. She was the last person in the family to speak her gratitude (her fiancé was the first. He must have seen the opportunity and stealthily guided the group’s clockwise sequence), and she did so with her standard calm, quiet reserve. It took exactly half of one second for the news to cross the air between her pretty mouth to all of our ears, and it created such a stir of energy, such a wave of joy and chaos, that I think no one will ever forget that moment. We caught most of the family response on security camera. There was much jumping and hugging and a little crying.
This is actually her second Mother’s Day weekend. Her first was spent in the hospital welcoming that peach fuzz baby boy we have all become obsessed with and who we each believe regards us, one at a time, as his favorite uncle or auntie or cousin. Grandma and Grandpa have zero competition from us.
Her craving for motherhood was kept mostly quiet over the years, but her talent for it has been obvious, displayed in the myriad ways she lives and loves. She has always exuded compassion, concern, stability, wisdom and a kind of softness that is matched only by her strength. She is both disciplined and playful, able to hold it all at once. She has spent more than two decades, it turns out, building an emotional and practical nest for her baby bird that is so strong, so comfortable, so safe, and so nourishing that now, at this moment, we see she is not only the mother he needs, the mother he chose from Baby Heaven and came to Earth to find; she is in many ways the mother we all wish to be.
Last November I was lucky enough to spend about a week with my baby sister and her baby boy in their nest. I got to see firsthand her tenderness, the way her lean arms scooped him up, tiny as he was then, into his favorite embrace. The way she fed him and bathed him. I got to watch both of their faces light up when they made eye contact. I heard her voice, which has in our adulthood issued some of my most treasured deep and serious conversations, collapse gently into songs like The Itsy Bitsy Spider and Frère Jacques. I got to see her weep when he was briefly inconsolable during a long car ride. She felt his pain, and she always will. I remember silently hoping she was ready for that part.
I went to California thinking maybe I could impart a smidgen or two of motherly guidance, ha! But no. She was already overflowing with instinct and goodness. She was a steady, shining conduit for every single thing he needed, right when he needed it. And that is exactly how it will always be. In the months since, she and her husband, our new brother we love so much, have shared hundreds of photos showing this peach fuzz baby boy’s growth and vibrating happiness. It is bizarre to think back to that Thanksgiving, to that moment right before she announced her pregnancy, back to the reality where we did not yet know this whole new person.
They say that when a baby is born, a mother is also born. I love that. I think it is true for many women, but in my baby sister’s case, I think she just finally emerged. She had already been a mother for a long time, growing herself behind the scenes and waiting for ripeness and good partnership, a gift every baby deserves. She is one of the most luminous mothers I have ever witnessed, and I am so thankful she has added a nephew and a brother to our big family for us to love, too.
Happy Second Mother’s Day, Gen.
LYLAS
xoxoxo
