My sister and I are six years apart, and although we live on the opposite side of the universe, we have always been very close.
When she fell pregnant the first time, I was at my happiest; I was starting to dream about having kids, and I was so grateful she didn’t have to struggle to conceive and create her own family.
I flew home with my husband to be close to her when the baby was born. I didn’t sleep the night she gave birth, as I couldn’t stand the idea that she was going through so much pain alone; I ended up running to the hospital at 5am, so I could at least be close to her husband.
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I was so tired and excited, and the sterile corridor where I was sitting was such a contrast to all the emotions that were swirling in my brain.
They allowed me to see the baby right after he was born. My sister was exhausted and yet so beautiful, and I couldn’t stop staring at her hair - as it looked like she had just been to the hairdresser, instead of having gone through hours of excruciating pain.
I was mesmerised (and completely clueless) about the birthing process and motherhood.
Fast forward to three years and my husband and I were in a delicate stage, as I didn’t seem to be able to conceive, and so much resentment was brewing in me.
The loneliness I felt during that stage was so loud and overwhelming. We decided to go back home for a family holiday, as I needed time to rest and regroup.
That’s when we got invited for dinner by my lovely sister and her husband. Before dessert, I was handed a little box, and as soon as I opened it and I saw the pregnancy test, my heart skipped a beat.