I had gotten it into my head that it was going to be a boy. My sister and brother-in-law had opted to be surprised, so they spent nineteen weeks with a little envelope on their coffee table that had the answer to the ultimate mystery inside of it, for which they should probably be given an award because I would not have been able to pass by it every day without caving. But I had three dreams where it was a boy - okay, one of which they said it was a boy and then when they came out to announce the name, they were all JK IT'S A GIRL, so that dream is pretty much irrelevant. The most vivid one was where I was coming to visit and I walked in the front door of their house and a little brown-haired toddler came running at me, all excited that I was there. That was the very best, and I can't wait until it happens for real.
Here's the suckiest thing about being an aunt: not getting to see the little peanut very often. My sister only lives an hour and a half away, but that's still kind of a trek, and gas isn't cheap, plus they're obviously busy and trying to juggle a plethora of other visitors as well. I have decided to claim him as my own; I am oddly jealous of the girls who have married Mike's brothers - I have to share my aunthood with them and I want it all to myself, dammit. But, well, I'm selfish, I guess.
It was April 16 when my sister texted me to tell me that her water had broken, and I just stood there in my kitchen all excited and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. Should I drop everything and zoom up there? I obviously wanted to meet the little dude as soon as possible. (Or dudette. It was still unknown at that point.) So I stayed put and just hung around, anxiously waiting to hear. I even made a comment to the BF that I bet she was hoping he'd be born that day, because she has this (what I believe to be irrational) hatred of odd numbers. (I was totally right, too - even during the process of giving birth, that thought had crossed her mind. I know her so well.) But, alas, he was born shortly after midnight - 12:41 am. Seven pounds, eleven ounces. Nineteen and three quarters of an inch long. Looking exactly like his daddy.
The crappy part is that nobody actually texted me when he was born, so naturally I was really worried, because the last text I got from the BIL was that she was getting ready to push, and then... nothing. I guess my mother had tried to send me a picture message, but fun fact: even though Google Voice will forward calls and texts to my old number to my new phone, it won't relay picture messages. So it wasn't until about 6am the next morning that I got the official announcement from my sister.
At one of her baby showers, we were supposed to guess the birth day, what it would be, and a name. All I knew was that she liked names that ended in N. So this one popped into my head, I decided that it was the very best one, and wrote it down. She gave me kind of a funny look and was like, "that's actually our first choice right now." I'm pretty much psychic, you guys. So basically from that point forward, I decided it my head that his name was going to be Jackson. So it was a good thing that that's what they named him, otherwise I would have had some mental dissonance to deal with. The Richard is after both our dad and our grandpa. (I'm actually floating around the theory right now that my dad likes little J-man more than he liked either me or my sister. My grandma swears he was the same way with us, but I don't know. He's loving this grandpa business. Obviously my mother and stepmother are too, but that could probably go without saying.)
I had never held a baby that little before, but I took the day off and drove on up to visit them in the hospital and I sat with little Jackson in my arms for quite a long time. He was still pretty sleepy from, y'know, being born, and occasionally he would wake up, scream for no reason, and then suddenly pass back out.
I've only gotten to visit him one other time since then, and he was pretty much just as adorable as I remembered. I'm pretty much going to spoil the crap out of that kid. I have purchased no fewer than ten outfits for the little guy, of which I am incredibly excited to show you because they are AWESOME, but my sister hasn't even seen them yet, so I don't want to ruin the surprise of them. So you'll have to wait. I had to cut myself off from buying him things... partially because of money, but mostly because I had already purchased all of the things I liked enough to buy, and now I will just have to wait until the next season's outfits come out.
I have mandated that my sister send me a picture of him every day, which she's been pretty good about. I have them all in an album on my phone now, so odds are good that anyone I hang out with will be subjected to a viewing. Yeah, I'm gonna be THAT person. At least it's not pictures of my cat, right?
Anyway. This is only the first installment in what will probably be many of the saga of my aunthood and my quest to become Jackson's absolute favorite aunt, so I'll wrap it up here for now. Here, have another picture or three before you go.