I woke up yesterday to an sms from my dad saying my sister was in labour. She had been feeling some pain but wasn’t expected to go into labour. That night I had sensed something and shuffled around for my phone till I fell asleep.
By the time I got through to my dad, I was an aunt. In the two or three hours in between, I prayed like a fiend. I demanded from God that both my sister and her baby be safe… or else!
My mum told me my sister was incredibly brave during labour. That she amazed the nurses by smiling through her pain (which incidentally went on for 11 hours). I’m in awe.
My new niece is perfect and I am already in love with her. It sucks that I have to get all the info secondhand and not be able to hold her yet.
V asked me who I’d love more – my new niece or my new tail (also my niece) – and in all honesty I answered both equally. However, the child of one’s sister – especially if one has only one sister – is the closest thing to one’s own child. For example, I badgered my sister about the name of her child and she actually picked one that I liked. (I know, I’m quite annoying that way but I would only feel free enough to do this with my own sister). I know I’ll be more involved in raising my niece simply because I can say things to my sister that I would never tell my sister-in-law. It’s already been agreed that I will be the fashion coach. Also, the instiller of rebelliousness (ok, that’s not been agreed but what are aunties for?).
Anyway, a WHOLE month to go before I see my niece. Her name is Siara Maya.