Great-Grandma Judy, age 87, holds you close to the robins stitched into her sweater and bounces your tears away on the exercise ball.
Grandma Gail, dressed in yellow corduroy pants, sweater, and fleece (to keep out the cold) touches your cheek with her finger. On the living room couch, you stretched beside her, she puts in one contact, squints at you, puts in the other, then touches your cheek again, tiny tears of contact solution in the arcs below her eyes.
Grandpa Michael sits at the dining room table, glass of lemon soda and caramel roll before him, and reads an old "Classic Toy Trains" magazine.
Upstairs, the sound of a razor whizzing over your father's face. You kept him awake last night for half an hour, not with your sobs but with your smiles. It is impossible to walk away from those smiles, even at 2:30am. Then, after half an hour, you kept him awake for another hour with your fussing.
I told your birth story to a room full of new mothers last night. My turn came just after a woman whose birth experience caused her post traumatic stress and dreams of cutting and blood. I hope we can end on a note of joy, she said, turning to me. And so we did. Your genesis story, Thisbe, is filled with humor and light.
Mia and Nico had their baby today. Her name is Lucy. I hope you will get to meet her one day.
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