Becoming an Aunt

Rowan Garrett Embry. 7.4 pounds, 21 inches, born March 21, 6:15pm. I am an Auntie. All I know about childbirth is you wait a long time. So I packed a lot of things. When my sister was born, I was packed off to a friends house and waited. When my brother was born, we sat in the waiting room and waited. We got to the hospital at midnight Saturday night. I curled up on a couch and did what I know to do. Wait. And wished I’d brought those little eye patches they give you on long plane flights.

In and out came reports: lots of contractions. Get the epidural. By 10am I ventured into the room. Dilated to two centimeters. How fast does it grow? I ask. I get yogurt at the hospital cafeteria. Dilated to three centimeters. The nurses are nice. I ask my sister about contractions—are they like cramps? They are not that bad if you had time to rest between them. Oh—and lots of people to rub your back. She feels itchy. Dilated to four centimeters.

I read aloud while she tries to sleep. Some book by Jewel. I didn’t know she could write and sing. I get into it. I get hungry. Poor sister can’t eat anything but ice chips. We’ve been here 15 hours. The baby has to come 24 hours after the water breaks. Or else. I drive to Safeway for actual food. Mushroom and cheese sandwiches. I have recently become a mushroom fan. Dilated to five centimeters. She asked me to French braid her hair so it will be away from her face. I am more than happy to be able to something to help. The rest of waiting is so slow. Dilated to six centimeters.  

The other centimeters go quickly and I do homework as people rush in and out, giving reports and calling people on cell phones. Then my mom and Donovan go in and the door is shut to everyone else by 5:30pm. And the proud dad and the new teary eyed grandma come out less than an hour later. He’s here!