Aftershock

Chapter 3: Mother Hen

January 25th, 1998

My dad told me to go to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I was so excited, I couldn't even sit still. I got up and started putting clothes in a bag. I didn't know why. My mom was the one having the baby. My mom was the one that would have to stay in the hospital; not me. 

Superbowl Sunday was over now; I had no idea who had played, but I knew the team that was supposed to win, didn't. The entire football game, I had followed my mother around listening carefully. When they first kicked the ball, I had heard her make an unfamiliar sound, and grab her stomach.

Her stomach had been the home of my baby sister, Samantha, for so many months now. My mom's belly had stretched to a size that I never knew possible. I knew it was time, now, for her to be born. I had watched my mom all night, and she knew it was time, too. 

I paced the floor; I thought about going back downstairs. My room was actually the attic. He tells me to go to bed. Bed?! Why aren't we going to the hospital? Why is Mom waiting so long? He better not be making her wait. They better not think they are going without me!! What if they forget all about me up here?

They weren't going to forget me. I tried to give sleep another try. I must have dozed off, because my dad was at the top of the stairs, and I hadn't even heard him come up.

"Emily. You ready? Mom thought she could make it through the night, but we gatta go now."

"It's time??" I squealed.

He smiled; it looked so awkward on his face. The scowl he usually wore was no where to be found. He actually looked happy.

"It's time," he said with a grin.

My emotions got the better of me, and I started to cry. I rushed to put on my jeans and sneakers, that I had laid out, and completely forgot the bag I packed just a few hours earlier.

I hurried down the stairs to find Stephanie, rubbing her eyes, in the corner of the hallway. She had her doggie doll in one hand, and her GameBoy case in the other. She didn't look happy at all; Stephanie hated being woken up.

Mom was all ready with a bag in her hand. "Emily, you aren't going to bring anything for the waiting room?"

"I don't need anything!"

"Bring something, Emily."

I grabbed a notebook and a pen from the desk.

"I'll write," I said, but everyone had already scurried down the stairs; they were headed for the door. "Wait!" I cried.

We all packed into our family car, and dad drove to the hospital as quickly as possible. I let my mind wander about my new baby sister. What would she look like? Would she look like me? Maybe just a little? I hope she likes me. I know she'll like me! I know this sister will be so much different than Stephanie.

It wasn't that I didn't like Steph. I really loved her, but we were so different. We bickered constantly; everything between her and I was a competition. She wasn't mushy at all; I had a really soft heart, and was quick to cry at both happy and sad moments. I felt like everything affected me too deeply; I couldn't brush anything off, while Stephanie was uncaring. She shrugged everything off. 

Sometimes, I wished I could be like that, but not tonight. These emotions were the best ones I'd felt in my life, and I was ecstatic to be feeling them so heavily. Tears kept filling up my eyes, as I played out every good, and bad, scenario that could possibly happen tonight. I was so anxious, my whole body rattled. 

"Are you cold, Em?" my mom asked, as we entered the sliding doors to the hospital. 

I shook my head no, because I couldn't speak, but my dad handed me a blanket anyway. They ushered us to the waiting room, and turned to leave with a nurse.

"Don't forget about me! I want to see her first thing! Please!" I grabbed my mom's hand. 

She squeezed my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. "I won't forget about you, Em."

Then, they were gone. Stephanie was already curled up on a couch, sleeping. I tried to sit and watch TV, but I couldn't focus on anything. I had no idea how she could sleep at a time like this!  I just wanted to meet my baby sister!

I paced around, wrote about my erratic thoughts, and tried to talk to Steph for what felt like an eternity. It was, in fact, a few hours. The sun had just come up when my dad finally came to get us from the waiting room.

"She's here!" He literally beamed.

I had never seen this side of him. He looked nothing like the angry, drunk man I knew. The man who had forced my sister and I to sit on the floor in the kitchen, without speaking, until we admitted who ate the last ice cream bar; or the guy who had throw his fist through our living room wall, and got us kicked out of our apartment. There were no veins visible on his neck or forehead, and spit wasn't flying out of his mouth onto my face. He wasn't staggering, or slurring; he wasn't mad, or punishing me for a reason I couldn't figure out. He was a real Dad. 

I floated down the hall; I wanted to run as fast as I could, but it didn't take long. Dad pointed out Mom's room, and we hurried in to find a tub on wheels that contained the tiniest human I had ever seen. 

"Can I hold her?" I was almost breathless. 

"Sit down over there. I'll hand her to you. Now you have to make sure you support her neck at all times, Emily. You hear me? She doesn't have the strength to hold her own head up."

"Mom told me that."

I was overcome with emotion as he placed that little girl in my arms. My eyes welled with tears, as I studied her dark head of hair, perfect, button nose, full, tiny lips, and closed, sleeping, round eyes. I couldn't speak, and cried silently. Everyone, except Mom, stood around us, but all I could see was her.

"Look at how much hair she has, Emily," my mom smiled from the hospital bed, "It's no wonder I had so much heartburn, huh? Talk to her, she'll know your voice."

I managed a whisper, "Hi, Samantha. It's me, your oldest sister, Emily."

Her eyes fluttered, and my heart fluttered back. Slowly, my baby sister did a little stretch, opened her big, blue eyes, and looked right at me. In that moment, I knew... I can't explain exactly what I knew, but it felt like something clicked inside my 11 1/2 year old head. There was more to life than I had ever even imagined. 

My tears flowed freely now, "Hi, baby girl! I love you!"

It was the truest statement I had ever spoken. I loved her, and now, I knew what it meant to love. I knew I would protect her, and care for her. I knew I would hold her, and sing to her. I knew I would watch her first steps, and be there when she woke up with a bad a dream. I knew... that THIS was what life was all about. I knew, in that exact moment, that I wanted to be a mother when I grew up, more than anything else in this whole world.