Birth

Over the last few months, I've cultivated a love affair with The Memoir. It understands me, dares me to bring my emotions to the surface, and by the time I done doing the former - I'm happy. To be able to think in hindsight is both nostalgic as well as cruel - not all our memories are ones we wish to relive. Up until I began writing journals which in fact resonate with memoirs, I was suppressed with fears of getting too deep into my own mind. But it turned out to be a relief, a way to deal. It still is.

I've always secretly longed for a little sister, someone who could count on me and vice versa, and who I could take out my frustrations on.
On February 23rd, 2005 my niece was getting ready to enter this world full of surprises. I remember getting ready to go to school – I was in fifth grade at the time, then my mom showed up and told me that my sister’s water just broke. She gave me two choices, I could either go school and spend the bulk of my day in anticipation, or I could go to the hospital with her and wait. I chose the latter and it turned out to be one of the most mesmerizing experiences in my life. We showed up at the hospital and I remember seeing my brother in law in law walking back and forth in the hallway, a bundle of nerves. I was particularly giddy and excited because I already felt a deep connection with the baby, since my sister spent the duration of her pregnancy with us. I used to play with her protruding stomach and wonder whose habits Jizzianny would borrow from, I fiercely wished that she’d take after me in spirit.
For hours we stayed at the hospital just wandering and waiting, I slept and woke up and still there was no sign of fresh life around. When I decided to take another nap, my brother in law woke me up and told that the baby was finally born. In retrospect, I couldn’t very well gauge the depth of his emotion, but now I can. I could remember how supremely happy he was, he’s not one prone to big displays of feeling, but he was nonetheless quietly content to be a father for the first time.
We were admitted to my sister’s room, and I recall passing right through my sister and searching for my niece. I bet everyone was thinking I was quite humorous. My sister told me to look to the left of her bed and there she was. Cushioned in a soft yellow blanket, a tiny thing eager to fully open her eyes and judge her surroundings. I tried to figure out her skin colour, a perplexing endeavour since I still could not understand why her skin was pink. Everyone started chuckling when I inquired about that small detail, and my mom told me that that was what the doctor wrote on the hospital’s birth slip. Skin: Pink. She had a soft mass of curls on her head, and long lashes they made me jealous. I stood there staring at my niece, desperately wanting to hold her but afraid I’d do something wrong. So I settled for cooing at her, making funny faces, my efforts were rewarded when I saw the tiniest curve of her lips. Just like the rest of the family, I was absolutely besotted, suspended in a moment of extreme warmth and pleasure. This child had my heart.
That was about six years ago, but the memory is just as poignant. I think I heard a quote in a movie some time ago, it was: live for the moments that take your breath away. And that’s what I’m reminded of when I remember this; to chase captivating moments.