Plus one

Last night, a new person -- tiny, quiet and pink -- was added to our family. In the instant Baby J emerged, all of our hearts grew immeasurably.

Speaking to my sister-in-law today, I smiled to hear her sound energetic and optimistic after a lot of laboring and eventual C-section. Speaking to my brother this evening, I teared up to hear him cry at the intense love and concern and understanding that overcame him as soon as he stepped out of the hospital for a little while. 

Checking in with my parents during our 67th call in the last 24 hours, I warmed up to realize that now they get to share the experience of parenting that they've had with me for more than these Lil E years with their only son, now another boy is lucky enough to have these two people as his grandparents.

Sharing the news with Lil E when he came home from a night at his father's house, I was grateful that my son has a cousin and maybe even a partner in crime in the complications and joys of this family. Looking at the photos of this child, this new life so full of possibility, so wrapped in happiness from all sides of the country, I felt myself changing.

I've been a daughter for 37 years, a sister for 33 and a mother for more than five. Now -- and this really gets to me -- I get to call myself an aunt.

I am taken aback at how emotional I am about this. I keep thinking about the "Friends" episode when Ross and lady-before-Rachel gave birth to baby Ben. Monica leans over and introduces herself to the newborn as his aunt and, all choked up, says, "I promise I'll always have gum in my purse."

At this point, fishy crackers and crayons are more realistic. But ohhhh, sweet Baby J, I do have so many promises for you. Already.

There are too many weeks between this baby's birth and when we will get to hold him in our arms and smother him in kisses and orange Goldfish dust.

But for tonight, my heart beats softly and strongly at the same time, and the words behind it say, "What a gift. What a gift."

I adore baby booties (both kinds). I spied these on the Etsy boutique Pleasantly Plump Knits and they might just be one of Baby J's first gifts from Auntie Jessie and Lil E.

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Oh, the joy

In a birthing room four states away, my sister-in-law and brother are trying to sleep in the last few hours before they bring a brand new baby boy into the world. They are anxious, they are excited. They are exhausted.

When my brother called to tell me that his wife Sharon had been sent over to labor and delivery and the Valentine's Day baby was healthy and in position and would be arriving several weeks early, I not only heard frantic disbelief in his voice, I recognized it.

I gave him the best advice I could think of in my own moment of surprise and delight -- to pack snacks and bottles of water and to stop worrying that he left his computer at work and just focus on Sharon and on resting. And then the big thought nearly knocked me over.

"In a few hours, you will be a daddy!" I squealed.

"I am," he tried to sound calm but I heard a big sigh that followed the words.

But there was more.

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Lil E explains: The difference between boys and ladies (yes, there are nipples involved)

In a conversation that had already gone on too long and about which I PROMISE not to elaborate on here about why something my son thinks he is politely referring to as a "tushy hole" is juuuuust an "itty bit darker" and looks like a little flower, I did my motherly best to halt the hiney talk.

Yes, this means I brought up boobs.

"Well, not all of the skin is the same color all over our bodies," I explained in my best and well-practiced Sciencey Mommy voice. "Like the birthmark on your elbow. That looks like a little football but the rest of your skin is paler."

And because I struggle often to let enough be enough, I kept on.

"Or nipples. Nipples are darker than the rest of your skin, too."

At this mention, Lil E (ahem) perked up.

"LIKE WHAT ABOUT DIMPLES?!" he smiled in surprise and glee in a way that makes me think there really is a gene dedicated to spending well over the normal amount of time and attention speaking of breasts that I have clearly passed on to the small child (sorry, small child). I'm not sure why he calls them dimples now after several years of calling them by their correct name.

Really, Lil E doesn't even call them dimples. More accurately (I guess), he calls them "DIMPOHHHHS", which I think is utterly (again...ahem) adorable and will not correct nor prevent. I blame it on the damn boob gene.

So the question blurted out more like, "LIKE WHAT ABOUT DIMPOHHHHS?!", to which I responded that everyone has nipples but some are pink and some are more reddish and others are brown in color. What can I say? The kid is curious. I just dole out the answers and pray they are developmentally appropriate. And also that I can keep myself from referring to "pepperoni nipples" as one stop on the areola color spectrum.

There was quiet, as there always is when this 5-year old's brain is cranking away on important life learnings like ta-tas and tushies. I tried to busy myself with picking up Lego pieces from the floor and folding tiny pairs of strewn-about undies.

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