A Twist in My Story...

I have an older sister who is a roudy and rambunctious ball of energy. Possibly one of the most fun people on the planet, she can turn any errand into an adventure. She is the closest to me in age out of all of my siblings, so we have been stuck together like glue since I was born. When we were young this was a chore for her, but as we got older we became friends. She is one of the only people I feel like I can say ANYTHING to. She tells it like it is, no sugar coating, and I love that she can cut any issue right down to the bone in a quick second. She and I were also pregnant together with our sons. She was due a few weeks after me, but she ended up being early and I ended up being late and so Bubba (her son) was born 6 days before Dawson. The discrepancy in their size was huge, so we called them Timone and Pumba (that's Dawson's foot on the left compared to Bubba's on the right). One of my biggest fears in placement was that the boys would not get to know each other. I always wanted them to be close, best friends, like my sister and I have been.

Many people wondered how I would deal with having Bubba around. I will admit, even I was scared of how he would make me feel. Since I had a C-section I had to have someone in the house to help me for the first week or two. Since both my parents worked and there was no one else, my sister had to be the one to stay with me. I didn't have a chance to avoid being near Bubba. I thought it would be so hard. My heart was still aching so badly from the blow of placement. I thought for sure that this little baby being in the house would kill me. How could I see him, hold him, be near him, watch my sister with him without my heart breaking all over again? The first morning they arrived I tried to just ignore them, I hoped my sister would keep him quiet and away from me. No such luck. He cried and moved and caught my attention. My sister was obviously exhausted from nights awake with him, so somehow at one point I ended up with a little lump in my arms. He fell asleep, and shortly after that my sister fell asleep too. I lay down on the couch with him still wrapped in my arms and I just watched him for a while. This was so different than I imagined. Shouldn't this hurt? Shouldn't I be wracked with sobs from just seeing him, let alone holding him close? How was it possible I could still get attached to this bundle of chub?

I don't know how it happened, and I certainly don't know why, but somehow that baby boy did not hurt me by being there. Somehow he did the opposite, he held my wounded heart together while it scabbed over. He stemmed the bleeding of my tortured soul. I still cant express how important my nephew was in my grieving. He wasn't so much a reminder of what I was missing as he was a way for me to connect with Dawson and know what stages he was in. I babysat him as often as I could, often having him sleep in bed with me at night. Cuddling his soft, warm, baby body against me and loving every minute. He was a gentle nudge of happiness during an otherwise despondent first year. Maybe I am just imagining it but I always felt like I had a special kind of bond with him. He will always be one of my favorite people.

As time passed and I moved beyond the grief, Bubba has remained an important piece of my life. Every time I have a visit with Dawson and his family I make sure that Bubba can go too. The boys amaze me with how they seem to just pick up their friendship like it is so familiar. They don't see each other for months or years and yet they play together like no time has passed. I'm so grateful that they still get to be the friends I always imagined they would be.