This weekend was...eventful, to say the least. I walked a 5k (The Color Run), which is my second 5k completed ever, and I was pretty proud of myself. I did have one bit in the middle where I started to panic, and at the end I was exhausted and tired and out of breath, so I got a bit scared again, but I never actually had a panic attack, and I was able to manage myself to a degree that I never felt out of control. I was really proud of myself Saturday morning. We went and got my windshield replaced, and I was ready to go home and take a nap.
Then. THEN!
My sister went into labor. She was in the hospital all day Saturday, and Olivia Noel was born at 12:25am July 19th, a Prime Day, as I call it. 7, 19, 719, 197....all prime. She's basically destined to be a math nerd, is what I'm saying.
Baby Olivia is perfect. I mean, obviously no baby is REALLY perfect, but I'm completely in love with her already. She's got little ears that look like bacon, and her nose is all smushed to the side, and she's so quiet. I've yet to hear her actually cry. I forsee myself spending a lot of time in Sunbury visiting her. I didn't get to see Hiro as much when he was a newborn, and I plan on making up for that with Oliva.
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I was taken aback by how impressive my sister was during her labor and delivery. My baby sister (whom I will always think of as 12 years old even though she's 25) handled the whole thing so well. There was never any screaming, or crying, or yelling. She gave birth the same way she was born - quietly and calmly. Her first epidural didn't work, and even then, she worked through the contractions silently, with her eyes closed. The only time I heard her make a noise that almost sounded like crying was when she saw Olivia for the first time.
She was amazing. She was awe-inspiring. I'll always look up to her now, for how she did that. I'm absolutely not saying that women who make noise during labor aren't impressive, obviously. I just...it was so unexpected, especially from someone related to me, the girl who whines and moans when she gets a stomachache. I strive to be like her, to be so graceful in such an intense situation.
Watching Olivia be born feels like a life-changing experience. Once Sarah started pushing, I started texting Brian, telling him how there's no way I could ever do this, that I was terrified for her, that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I watched my sister's heartrate go from 90 to 180 and back again, over and over and over. I watched her shake uncontrollably from the hormones. I watched her get nauseated from the epidural, and the whole time, I thought "there's no way I could do this. There's no way." I'd be inconsolable, out of control, screaming to be put under. I'd be sobbing and scared and completely insane.
But she did it, and did it well. Once Olivia came out, my brain flipped a switch, and suddenly I felt like maybe I could make it through that. I looked at her daughter, exactly like her mother, quiet as a mouse, looking around wondering who it was that forced her out of her warm little home, and wanted that. If my delicate little baby sister can be so strong, maybe I can be too.
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