Skip to main content

Auntie Autumn and Baby Felicity

 Auntie Autumn met baby Felicity in the wee hours of the morning. She wore her “meeting Felicity outfit,” a short skirt, tights, and a relaxed top. Felicity, age less than an hour, wore a swaddle.

“Auntie Autumn. Felicity, this is your Auntie Autumn.”

Felicity’s little body was tiny, wrapped in the large blanket. Autumn cradled her, bouncing gently as I watched from the hospital bed. A new mom sometimes gets a surge of energy after birth and I was rolling on the high of meeting Felicity and introducing her to my family.

“Auntie Autumn,” I liked it immediately. My sister’s new title rolled off the tongue as naturally as Autumn holding her little niece. I remembered when Autumn was little how much she liked babies. She held them and cuddled them.

Watching my sister, hold my baby was another strand in the tapestry of Autumm/Lei moments. She loved Felicity too! Not just because Felicity is adorable (which she is), but because Felicity is my baby. 

When we were small, Autumn and I played with our dolls. We took them on adventures and took care of them—putting them in tailored clothes, tucking them in doll beds, and serving them tea on little tables. We were rehearing a story we’re enacting now.


Tonight we are visiting Auntie Autumn, and she bounces Felicity whose large eyes are doing the slow droop. Felicity does love her Auntie Autumn—so much—and both of us can’t wait for a cousin!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventure Begins Very Early on the Morning of July 15th

Note: In-N-Out is the first place I go when I arrive back in California. The California chain tastes like coming home. My day had been planned. I was going to walk with friends. Have coffee with my mom and a phone date in the evening. Followed by my husband asking, “what should we have for dinner.” And me responding “In-n-Out.” I’ll admit it I did exercise in hopes of expediting the labor process, but as I had been told, “babies will come when they will.” So I laid my plans: Plan A the aforementioned walk etc. and Plan B— Have a baby. When my mom arrived, full of more energy than I’m used to her having (a contrast with my labored lack of energy), it was apparent that Plan B was in effect. We were most definitely not going to coffee. I was going to have a baby. Labor… it’s not fun. Epidurals… they are a wonderful invention. It was late evening. I’d hoped they’d let me push on the 14 th . The history nerd in me was caught by the idea of having a baby on Bastille D...

The Bicycle Onsie is too Small!!

The fabric stretched around Felicity’s little feet and nestled her in a perfect fit. It was the first time I’d put Felicity in a onesie with feet. Up until then, she wore t-shirt onesies that snapped around her diaper. They were light and perfect for the hot summer days. But when nighttime came, Felicity liked to be cuddled and the footsie onsie was the perfect solution. Up until now, all Felicity’s clothes flopped and folded around Felicity’s tiny, baby body. She swam in the extra fabric. This onsie was snug and it fit like it was made for her. She’d wave her little legs and arms and the white fabric with little bicycles printed across its surface stretched with her. I loved putting her into it. Then something happened. It didn’t take long…maybe a couple of weeks. The bicycle onesie was washed following a diaper explosion and the cotton cloth shrunk. But just a little. Felicity’s cheeks and limbs became rounder and her eyes wider. She watched the ceiling fan and figured o...

Slaying Giants

Days like this begin when the night before I choose not to sleep, because I must read a few more lines from some news site or scroll one last time through the glowing screen of my iPhone instead of making good on my resolve to read quality literature and journal prior to bed. They continue when I wake up earlier than usual to teach, but finish teaching to realize that my children also went to bed later then they should. So now, everyone’s patience operates like feet hitting a wet spot on a wood floor. Bam. You loose traction. And first one then another is upset and done. That tantrum sparked another melt-down from someone else, and as I try to not join the melt-downs, and instead attempt to be the adult I hazard some words of explanation.  “Your choices impact us all.” I tell one of them.  My children’s choice do change the tenor of the room for good or for ill, but so do my choices. On days of this sort, where nothing is really wrong, other than a strong case of the grumpies...