I Wish I Was a Mother…and I’m so Glad I’m Not
I always wanted children. But sometimes, I find peace in my freedom.
I woke just after 2AM today to the sound of my phone ringing. My alarm was set for 4:45, giving me enough time to shower, pack up my car and head out to my brother’s house before he and his wife set off for the hospital where my sister-in-law was scheduled to be induced at 7AM.
But surprise, her water broke in the middle of the night and they needed me to come sooner than planned to watch over their 3-year-old, Felix.
“Do I have time to take a shower?” I murmured, still half asleep.
“Ummm,” my brother, Levi said, “you should just come straight here. You can use our shower.”
I don’t know why I asked that. I have 11 (now 12) nieces and nephews and I know when someone calls me in the middle of the night to tell me water has broken, you don’t pause for a shower.
I know that because I’ve been the “on-call” babysitter for six births over the course of the past ten years. Why me? Because out of my five siblings, only two of us don’t have kids — me and my baby brother, Jack. And despite Jack’s incredible gift with children, I’m the go-to when it comes to this sort of thing.
