An open letter to my little sister before she gives birth:
November 8, 2015, 12:05 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

My darling baby sister,


So soon that I’m sure by now you can’t believe it will ever happen but it will and then suddenly you will be forever changed

You will be a mother.

I have always known you would be an amazing mother.

I have known from the moments where you took care of me when I needed care-taking, even as children–

From the moments you held my hand and told me things would be okay–

I knew.

You were always meant for this. For this moment.

I cannot be there for this moment. I cannot physically be with you to make sure everyone is doing their job correctly and that you are okay.

This is slowly killing me.

So, instead, I will write these words of wisdom for you. Because you are my favorite person in this entire world and because it is my job and my honor to pass down these words to you.

You are carrying like I did. You are carrying large, in front, and low. Your water will probably break. When that happens, go sit on the toilet and call your doctor. It may not stop. The water never stopped coming for me. I had to sit on towels in the car. It was magnificent.

Also: a mess.

Get used to being a mess. It won’t stop.

Your doctor will ask you if you are sure your water broke–don’t be afraid to hold the phone up to the toilet so she can hear the water gushing from you; because that’s what I did. I THINK IT’S ALL BREAKING, DOCTOR.

You will go to the hospital. Everyone will act like you are carrying an active bomb. That’s fine. Let them.

You will meet your first Labor and Delivery nurse. These people are amazing. They are the correct amount of bossy. You will use them as anchors. When you don’t know how to feel about something, they will tell you. Don’t be offended, listen to them. They are always correct.

You will labor.

You will gush bodily fluids and feel pain that you didn’t know existed. You will endure.




You will make eye contact with your husband. You will exchange an admittance, “We aren’t ready but are doing this anyway and we have each other”.




You will do things with your body that you didn’t know it could do. But it knew. It was built for this. Let your body do its job. Push that baby out.

And if you can’t, that’s okay. If you have to split your body in half, while awake…WHILE AWAKE…to get that baby out, that’s okay, too.

You will




You will make your family whole in a way that you didn’t know it was lacking.

You will bring this screaming, naked creature into the world and you will mentally high five yourself.

HIgh five yourself often. You took cells and made them into a person.

You grew a human.



a human.

Love you, seester.


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