Here for the Sisters

Thoughts on Love

Photo by Jennifer Burk on Unsplash

I'm one of the fortunate ones to have a blood sister. I prayed every night of my mom's 3rd pregnancy for a girl. After two brothers, I desperately wanted a little sister. My childish prayers were answered and at age 5 and a half, I got her. From a young age, we would snuggle in bed, giggling and talking away. Never one to stop reading a book too early, I often drove my sister crazy with keeping the light on too long just to sneak a few more chapters. As I was the oldest, privacy wasn't really a thing as I talked to boys on the phone or hit puberty. My sister and I get to talk less frequently these days, but when we do, our conversations are full of what the Holy Spirit is doing in our hearts and lives.

I've never been the “best friend” type, instead preferring an inner circle of women walking alongside me. I've been fortunate to have those bonds throughout my adult life. Pinging out texts of parenting or marriage solidarity and organizing play dates when we all need a little out-of-the-house sanity. The joke is that I'm the one to be friends with if you need to be dragged out of doors, but the joke is really on them when their kids become “wild & free.” We can throw a mean lunch together by bringing each of our offerings. Of course, let's not forget the coffee cups handed and the bouquets delivered and the prayers warred and the steps walked. These friendships know how to show up - whether washing each other's dishes or feeding the tribe, we are here for it.

After my first daughter's birth, I became a birth doula. I never take for granted the gift of bearing witness to life bursting forth and families expanding. It's a precious honor to be invited into the sacred space of birth. When people ask me what a doula does, I often start off with, “It's like a sister, friend, encourager, and auntie in the perinatal space.” I'm the person who gets texts about pregnancy discharge and “is this normal??” from friends and clients. The person who educates and advocates for better births and bonding. I hold icy washcloths onto necks and foreheads and offer sips of bone broth. I squeeze hips in labor and have my hands squeezed during pushing. I give up sleep and am unfazed by fluids, and you know I tear up almost every time I watch a baby crown. Some people are baby people, but I'm here for the moms!

In a world of 2.5 kids (preferably one boy and one girl) and white picket fences, I gleefully announced, “It's another girl!” when my second child was born. Tonight I watched my 18-month-old climb up on a trash can to reach a pull-up for her big sister. Earlier in the day, my 3-year-old prayed unprompted for her sister's injured finger then sweetly kissed it. Daily I witness tenderness and affection and spunk between the two of them. And maybe this baby in my womb is another girl also, which wouldn't disappoint me either, because once you see the beauty of sisters, you can't help but smile.

"Two doll houses!" The post on our local freebie page reads. Pictures show two matching slate blue houses with assorted furniture piled into them. Thinking of my daughters and our good friends who also have two daughters, I message the poster. She tells me that her and her sister got them for Christmas in 1976 and she would love to see them loved again. She requests that if I can, to send pictures when they are done. I pick up the doll houses after church and text my friend, "I just got us a DIY project." This week, our friends visit and we match drawers to dressers and carefully reassemble broken pieces with their well-loved furniture. We glue on shutters and gently wipe off dust with microfiber cloths. I shoot a few pictures to the lady, thanking her once again. "Thank you so much for sharing...I needed them to be loved!!" she gratefully responds. That evening I watch my girls play with it, nestled into our living room. I think about this precious house, a tool for sisterhood memory-building once again.

It's been fitting that I just reread Little Women. The beauty of love is that it shows up in a myriad of ways and demonstrations, but this February, I've been especially grateful for sisterly love.

“Helping one another is part of the religion of our sisterhood.” - Jo March, Little Women

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Love."