I'm taking this privilege most seriously. I've pulled out our copy of "The Birth Partner..." something something tips for dads, doulas and others in the room. I've already read this book and understand the concepts, but just to be hilarious I joked to my sis that "isn't a doula like the person who juggles and does magic tricks during labor?" That would be the court jester, and apparently her birthing class teacher already covered "humor while in labor" a couple weeks ago - it's not funny at a certain point, she says, and Jamie says Matt looked somewhat disappointed hearing this while he drew "battle goats" on his class notes. In the room will be Jamie (of course), Matt, our mom, me and of course, the assorted and sundry birthing professionals. I'm there to just encourage, support and probably play nice music and, also, cry and look agape while I stand in awe. And cry.
That is, of course, if the baby comes on time. They are notorious for being early or late, showing up to the party naked and crying. Oh, babies!
Whenever this little girl makes her grand entrance, I know that she is coming into a world of love love love to surround her. I can't wait to meet her, hold her, make silly faces at her, and also, see my little sister become a mother. It will be beautiful, and leaving in a couple days to not only go see my sister, which is exciting, but also to go in order to await of the coming of a new person whom we already adore is unique, astounding and absolute joy. I love the whole idea of surrounding family, being near to and helping women while bringing a new human into the world - it seems old as time, yet its new to me. J'adore participating in new-old life tropes. Hurry up baby Julia Paz!
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