“I want a sibling.”
Since I can remember, this was one of my biggest dream. I remember even writing a letter to Santa Claus, asking him for a little sister since I was feeling lonely. I dreamed about sharing my toys with someone else and falling asleep while giggling with my brother/sister. Of course, Santa replied back, saying that it wasn’t possible since only my parents had the decisional power over it. I can only imagine how surprised my parents were when they read the “10 good reasons for having a sibling” written by a 6-year-old me. Anyway, I didn’t give up, I kept asking them to have a small companion.
I also remember how jealous I was of all my other friends. All my friends had at least one other sibling, therefore, I was on the only-child-group by myself. It’s funny, thinking that I wanted a sibling so bad that, even when we were playing as a family, I always wanted to be the Big Sister.
Anyway, I’ve spent all my childhood dreaming about it, but it never came true. When I was 12, I realized that I was going to be an only child forever. And to a certain point, I also started to appreciate it. When I turned 15, I was satisfied with being an only child. But then everything changed. I remember that it was a rainy day, I was watching a trashy TV-program waiting for my parents to come back from work, you know just the routine. They arrived together holding hands, looking extremely happy. And I thought that something was going on since they usually finish their turns at different hours. My mum sat next to me while my dad turned off the TV. The room was silent for a moment, and I had chills running all over my back.
“I am pregnant!”
My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t speak. I was so happy and nervous at the same time. Was everything going to change? How do you spend time with a new-born? Will we get along?
I remember asking my friends questions every day. Asking them for some advice or suggestions. During these nine months, I read books, blogs, and articles about babies. I was feeling like a small expert on the field.
He arrived on a hot morning in June. My mom’s water broke during the night, and they rushed to the hospital, leaving me at home with our dog. I couldn’t sleep, since I was feeling too excited, I spent the whole night looking at my phone, waiting for a call or any kind of news. Finally, at 10:30 am, I received a photo with the caption: “Here he is”. In the photo, there was my brother wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, with a small blue hat. He had his small hand wrapped around my dad’s finger. It was one of the cutest photos ever. I was impatient, I wanted to see him as soon as possible, but I had to wait until the afternoon. In the afternoon I arrived at the hospital with my grandparents and I rushed to the nursery glass, pushing my way through the crowd of people. And finally, I was there in front of him, but… but… he seemed kind of different from the photos, so I asked my dad what happened. And there I realized that I spend 10 minutes looking at the wrong baby. My parents still make fun of me for this. But after spotting the right baby, I couldn’t stop staring at him, he was so cute and lovely.
And, even though 8 years passed from that day, I still stare at my brothers with the same emotions, since for me he still is my precious little monkey.
Salut my dearest