On April 11, 1997, I was a college freshman at Asbury College (now University, woo-whee!) sitting in Dr. Devin Brown’s Western Classics class when the door burst open. It was my roommate.
“He’s HERE!” he shouted, not at all worried about interrupting my class. “The baby’s here!”
While I was at class, she’d taken a phone call that had come into our room for me. She was coming to tell me that I was aunt, because she KNEW I’d been on pins and needles waiting for that long-anticipated baby. My oldest nephew Charles had just been born, hours away in Columbus, Ohio, to my brother (also) Charles and my sister-in-law Elizabeth.
I cried tears of joy. I had been SO excited about becoming an aunt, and I knew my life would never be the same. And it wasn’t. It was immeasurably better from that moment on.
Over the next three years my two older brothers made me an aunt several more times over, so I had a niece and three nephews by the time I married my husband. He and I were both the youngest in our families, and when we married in March 2000 he already had eight nieces and nephews of his own. We had three flower girls and a ring bearer, all of whom we were aunt and uncle to. I had NO shortage of little people to love on, and I relished my time with them.
I enjoyed being the “fun aunt;” before I had kids of my own, I had my nieces and nephews sleep over, I babysat them, and I took them on fun outings. I even saw three of my brother’s sons be born, which was a special privilege I will never forget (especially the first time I saw a placenta, HELL-O!! I literally did NOT see that coming. Yikes.)
I LOVED being an aunt.
And then, I had my own kids.
And I LOVED being a mom.
