If you know me, you know that when my younger sister “found out” she was pregnant (22 weeks pregnant) in August of 2011, I was less than thrilled. My parents were pretty lenient parents when we were teenagers. I went to the parties, I drank underage and yes, I smoked pot. While my parents did not approve the behavior, they knew it was a phase and that in time, I would grow up. My dad, bless his heart, had one rule for us: do not get pregnant out of wedlock. That was it. One rule. Seriously – how hard is it to not break ONE rule, but Jessica broke it. Jessica broke the one rule that my parents had really made and really pushed into our brains, but I supported her anyways because she is my sister. I went to the doctor’s appointments, I made the doctor’s appointments, I paid any of her co-pays, and I made sure she had enough prenatal vitamins. I helped her with anything that I could because that’s what good sisters do. When she told me that she was thinking about giving the baby up for adoption, I looked at the paperwork with her, I made the phone calls she was too scared to make and I did everything I could to show her support because that’s what good sisters do.
When she said she didn’t want to come to my wedding because she didn’t want to answer questions about the baby and her “situation”, I offered to take her dress shopping and buy her a nice dress to wear to the wedding that was summery and maternity friendly that would cover the bump because she is my sister and I wanted her there because being at your sister’s wedding is what good sisters do. You also know, if you know me, that my younger sister did not come to my wedding. And when my nephew was born on the 14th of November 2011, I was not there because I was not a good sister. I was a bitter sister.
I didn’t meet my nephew until May… when he was six months old. Thanks to another falling out with my younger sister, I didn’t see my nephew again until he was 11 months old. And the only reason I was able to see him then, is because my parents were babysitting him. And when my nephew turned 1 on November 14th, I wasn’t there either. Not because I am not a good aunt, because I am, but because my sister doesn’t want me in his life. It’s hard. It’s hard to want a baby, the way that I want a baby, and see my sister with this beautiful, healthy, happy baby that she, in my opinion, does not deserve.
When I was finally coming to terms with things and starting to feel less bitter about my younger sister being a mother and feeling more optimistic that all of the trying and all of the heart-ache would one day pay off for Brandon and me, I got news that made me feel like I was literally being sucker punched. My younger sister is pregnant, again. I was a mess. All this time trying to get over how bitter I was feeling and then something like this happens. I am married to an incredible man. I own a home with that incredible man, a home that we purchased with the intention of bringing home a baby, a home that has a room specifically intended for a child, our child. I have a fulfilling, challenging, rewarding full-time job, with benefits and a 401K. I should be the one who is happily announcing their pregnancy to family and friends, not the crack whore.