The Delight of a Sister's Heart...

Today is my sister's birthday. She's eleven. I can't believe it. I remember wondering when she was 3 months old what she would be like when she was this age. Now I wonder what she will be like at sixteen, eighteen, and twenty...

I just realized that can't think much beyond that. Something about imagining her older than I am now is a little scary, a little too unfamiliar, a little too far beyond- it seems almost dangerous or perilous. . . Hmm. . . Why is that? What is about creating a perceivable image of my baby sister at thirty that completely freaks me out and makes my mind spin? Is it that I can't think beyond what I have experienced- it is unknown to me so I can't apply it to her? Is it because I realize that if she were thirty, I would be forty?! That is scary. Ha. (*No offense to anyone.) Or is it simply because she's my baby sister?

It's scary how fast time goes. I remember the day that my parents told us that my mom was pregnant. I was nine and my brother was twelve. I remember my mom was preparing a "special dinner," but she wouldn't tell us what it was for. I walked out into the dining room and saw the "I am special" plate stationed in front of my mom's spot at the table. I racked my mind for a explanation: I knew it wasn't even close to her birthday, or an anniversary, it wasn't Mother's Day.... what could it be? Being a little kid and a highly impatient person, not knowing what the red, mysterious plate was for completely mystified my young mind; I almost couldn't handle the suspense. I begged my mom to tell me why she was special today, but she refused to say until we had all sat down at the table.

After my dad said grace, I flung open my eyes and looked expectantly at my mom. She smiled. It killed me- I wanted to know; I needed to know. She looked at my dad and he smiled too. "Will someone please tell us what is going on?!" I shrieked. I looked at my brother; he was looking calmly at my parents and that made me even more mad. "Don't you want to know too?!" I glared at him and turned back to my mom.

Then she said something that I will never forget; she simply said, "Katie, Richie, I'm pregnant." She reached her hand across the table and took my dad's hand as mine and my brother's mouths dropped to the floor. Then I did the most rational thing I could think to do at such a moment: I stood up in my chair and screamed. . . I grabbed my brother by the shoulders and shook him, but he just sat there and looked at my parents.

I can honestly say I don't think I have EVER been more excited in my entire life. I had been begging my parents to have another baby since I was about three. I couldn't believe I was going to be a big sister. I remember my brother looking up at me and telling me to stop screaming. "Katie," he said, "calm down! Just hang on a minute. I need to take this in!" But I couldn't contain my excitement. I'm pretty sure I actually got down from my chair and started, literally, running around the house. . . like a dog-you know, when dogs get really excited and start running in circles and can't stop? I'm surprised I didn't pee my pants. Needless to say, I don't think I ate another bite of the twice baked potatoes and flank steak that my mom had prepared.

The next few months were a blur of preparing our house and our lives for a new baby. When we found out that we were going to have a little girl, my poor brother cried, but I was excited because that meant I would get to share my room with her.

I had a special connection with my new sister before she was even born. In fact, I predicted her birth. I told my mom the day before she was born that my mom would go into labor that night and she would give birth early the next morning... and she did. The night that my parents went to the hospital I got the flu before they left, and I was so disappointed because I knew it was going to happen that night. I don't know how I knew, but I did.

My brother and I were taken to the hospital the next morning to meet our new, baby sister. On the way there, we had decided that we would let our mom name her Abigail. We had argued about names since we had found out, but in the end, we decided to allow mom to have her first choice.

So that is the story of how my precious, beautiful, little sister was born; well, at least from my perspective, and never once have I questioned our families decision in naming her Abby which means "Delight of the Father's Heart," for she is certainly the delight of mine as well and always will be. And I thank her Father and mine daily for her presence in my life.