Write a letter to your brother telling him about the safe delivery of a bouncing baby by my mother
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Answer:
Step-by-step explanation:
Dear (you can add any name ),
I have long had a bad habit of calling you my “little” sister despite the fact there are barely two years between us, and you are now in your mid-30s. Perhaps these days calling you my younger sister is preferable. Either way, you seemed neither little nor young these last few days as you added a new, adorable member to our family.
The ability to be with you through your (very long!) labor was a terrific honor, and I’m so glad that you thought me the right person to distract you from the pain of contractions with bad reality television clips and fart jokes. I do hope you don’t expect me to stop, though, now that the baby is here. Aunt Jessica has a reputation to uphold.
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While I must admit that watching you the other day with your naked daughter laying across your chest, you looked beatific in a way I have never seen, I want you to know that I don’t think becoming a mother has made you any more complete, fulfilled or wise. You were all of these things before your daughter was born.
I do think, however, that her arrival means she will have the great luck of being on the receiving end of all the love and thoughtfulness that has always been a part of who you are.
I know you are tired now, and that you will be tired for a while – and I promise that I will let you talk about said tiredness as long as you would like. I also promise that I will never give advice on how to be less tired or suggest that you look tired. I am happy to take a kick in the shin – one of your childhood joys – if I break these promises.
A few things I wish someone would have told me when Layla was born: your daughter will be fine whether you breastfeed or not, whatever you choose to do about childcare, working, organic baby food or “sleep training.” Do what works for you, what you think is right and what makes you happy. The first year is all about survival.
Also, feel free to ignore my advice or “helpful” remarks from anyone else. When you’re a new parent, everyone has unsolicited advice to offer, and you can choose whether to take it. That said: don’t use mom for babysitting too much, please. I still need her.
When I think about the kind of mother you’ll be, I remember the day of your baby shower. I was overwhelmed with how beautiful you looked pregnant, and how happy I was for you. But I still wept in the bathroom for the baby shower I never had – it was scheduled to happen on the same day Layla was delivered, emergently, three months early. It’s a selfish thing, to think of your own misfortunes years later when you should be celebrating your loved ones’ present joy; I know this.
Yet that same evening you called me to acknowledge that it must have been a difficult day for me, taking time out from your happiness to sit with me in my grief. This is why your daughter is so very lucky to have you. You always have an eye turned towards what the people around you are feeling.
I told you in the hospital that I hope our daughters will be more like sisters than cousins, and that is true. Not just because I want them to be close, but because having a sister – having you as a sister – is an incomparable thing.
I’m sorry in advance for the fart jokes and naughty words that I will try very hard (not that hard) not to teach your daughter.