“I want a baby sister!” my sister cried, ecstatic.

“I want a brother!” I shout, my eyes shining. I faltered, “A sister would be great too though,” I said worriedly. We had just heard the news, my mom was pregnant. Recording us on a video camera, my dad had asked us if we wanted a brother or sister. I wished that if I did have a sister, she wouldn’t look back at the tape and think that I didn’t want her.



While my mom was pregnant, things were different around the house. She couldn’t cook dinner every night, and for the first time ever, we bought our Halloween costumes. I didn’t remember when this had happened before my sister was born because I was so little. This time I was ready, as a 4th grader, and a very mature one as I was often told, I was there to help my mother. As I look back on it now, I know that maybe my idea of helping her wasn’t actually helping, but at least she knew that I cared.



Every day after school I would come home and help her in any way that I could. I washed dishes, stayed quiet and took care of my sister. In the weeks leading up to her due date, I was very excited. I loved to feel the baby kick and hoped oh so much that it would be a boy.

“Mommy?” I said one day, “Will the baby love me?”

“Of course!” my mom said, “You are a wonderful big sister to Sarah, you will be a wonderful sister to your new sibling too.”

I was still scared. I always like to know the answers. I like it when things go my way. This time, I had no idea what to do. I’d always wanted a brother, someone who would love to play with me. But what if he didn’t like me? What if I wasn’t good enough because I was a girl? But I knew that these questions would go unanswered until my newest sibling was older, and I didn’t even know if it was a boy yet.


Finally, one day I was called out of school in the middle of math class. I grabbed the note and read it intently. “My mom’s having a baby!” I shouted, my eyes shining. In a state of joy, I excitedly threw my things together and ran outside to my grandparent’s car, then onto the hospital we went.

I remember walking across the green parking strip, holding my sisters hand and giggling, so happy that I felt that I could fly. I remember the soft music in the lobby and running up the flights of stairs. We met my dad in the upstairs lobby by my mom’s room. She was on the floor, rocking on an exercise ball. The nurse told us that it would be a few hours before the baby would be born.

Finally the nurse called us in to the room. My mom’s room was packed with my grandparents and aunts and uncles. I couldn’t wait for the baby to be born, but at the same time, I was scared for the changes to come. Crossing my fingers, toes and any other part of my body I could think of I closed my eyes, wishing for a brother.

It was December 9th, 2004 around 6:45 when he was born. Yes it was a boy. I was so happy I cried. When I first held my little brother, I knew that I would try my hardest to make him happy.

“Mommy,” I said in my most serious voice, “I can help you baby-sit any time that you need.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

“I’m glad you like your new brother so much,” dad said.

All of my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents congratulated us and held the baby, then were on their way. We stuck around for a few more hours to spend time with my mom and the baby.

“Mommy?” My sister asked, “What is the babies name?”

“Well,” said my mom, “That’s something we can think of as a family.”

My sister and I looked at each other wide eyed. Together, we had stayed up late at night before the baby was born whispering excitedly, trying to figure out what our mom and dad would pick as a name for the newest addition to our family. We knew that this was an important job, and that we would help them do it perfectly. It was a huge responsibility to pick out someone’s name, because it was the one that they were stuck with for the rest of their life. It explained to other people who they were. We were excited that our parents would let us be a big part of the family like this.

Running to the table that had the baby name book on it, I grabbed it and started flipping the pages enthusiastically. The name couldn’t be to long or to short. It couldn’t be weird. When names came up that my friends, or enemies, had I was worried that he would be like that person. After hours of searching we finally found the perfect name. Aaron David. “Aaron,” I whispered, kissing my new brother on the cheek. Opening his tiny eyes he looked at me, and I knew that this name would be perfect for him.