Here is how close Donnal and I are not.
Donnal’s second daughter, my niece Marie, is pregnant, very pregnant,
eight and a half months into her second pregnancy to be near exact.
It is a lovely thing.
Truly.
The whole family is excited for her.
We’re ready to welcome Marie’s new babies,
yes babies, plural,
into the family.
I remarked to Caroline a month or two ago how interesting it was that Marie is having twins. Twins don’t run in our family.
“Do you know if they run in his?” I asked Caroline.
“I don’t think so,” she answered, “but it wouldn’t matter anyway. They had medical help conceiving.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. Then, yes, twins make perfect sense.”
And it does make sense.
“Yes, they weren’t having any more luck than they did before Lise was conceived, so they went back to the same doctor.”
“Well, good for them,” I said and the conversation shifted to something else while I began to silently reflect on the fact that I had had no idea of any of this information, that Donnal had told Caroline and somehow not me.
Now and again I am reminded that I’m not in the Most Favoured Sister position.
Then again, Donnal and Caroline have always had a much closer
mostly love/sometimes rivalry
relationship than either of them has ever had with me.
I suppose I haven’t really ever known how or even attempted to learn how to change that status.
Lanceless by nature, there are windmills I’ve learned not to tilt at.
So tonight shouldn’t have caught me by surprise
and my nose should not be a single millimeter out of joint.
Really.
I’d been visiting at Caroline’s tonight for a while when Nathe called.
They talked for a few minutes about Dad stuff.
(Nathe has finally gotten a job and he’s coordinating Dad-watching in his absences.)
(At a gun shop!
- Unstable Nathe even frequenting a gun shop,
much less working there on a daily basis -
Oh gods. Nothing good can come of this.)
Then the conversation turned to Donnal.
“Yes, she left this afternoon… should be there by now… Uh-huh… Tomorrow…”
And a bunch more phrases from Caroline that I didn’t stitch together.
When Caroline hung up, she turned to me and explained.
Since Marie is quite tiny, the twins very well developed, and the lower twin in breech position, Marie’s doctor decided tomorrow is the day for Marie to have a C-section.
Donnal and Manny are driving the five hours to help with the new babies.
I smiled and cooed all the right words,
because it sounds like a good idea to have the babies now
and I am happy for them
and it is marvelous
and I do love them,
love them all,
babies, sisters, nieces, brothers, father,
and mother
who’s here still, still here always, no matter how long gone.
I do love them all…
But sometimes I do feel very not a part of this strange and divisive family.
Donnal had a five hour drive, sitting in the passenger seat.
Donnal obviously had time to call Caroline to tell her the happy news
and, obviously, Donnal had time to call Nathe,
our Designated Black Sheep of a Purposely Pain in the Ass Brother,
but a surreptitious glance it my phone showed
that Donnal hadn’t called me
or even texted me.
Caroline hadn’t even thought to mention the blessed event until Nathe called.
No one called me, breathless with excitement.
No one had any urgency to share the good news with me.
I got it offhand secondhand, something of an afterthought.
Nathe and Dad, I’m certain, and probably Rory too, had all shared before I was basically informed, notified, because I just happened to be witness to half of a conversation.
I had no idea that I had fallen so far in the pecking order in the clan.
Tomorrow, I am absolutely certain my phone will vibrate
with the announcement.
There will be numerous pics of a somewhat medicated but happy mother,
two tiny-hatted and blanket-wrapped bundles of joy,
and an absolutely beaming grandmother, that eldest sister of mine.
I will be one of a large number of names in the mass pic-barrage sent out
and I will response properly, typing in all the required coos and cuddles,
with an appropriate number exclamation points and smiley faces.
For my own self-preservation,
I am going to have to work a bit harder at not caring.
UPDATE
I got the text this morning. “Babies born.” “All well.” “6 pound boys.” “Jackson and Joseph.”
There were no pictures.
I didn’t recognize, any of the phone numbers of the other people replying to the short blast of texts.
Wow. Didn’t see that coming.
So I dutifully cooed back a text,
inserted the appropriate words and wishes,
feigned faux delight.
I truly do hope all are well and happy,
But really,
I am becoming convinced the pleasant little drama five hours drive away
Has very little to do with me.
This is why I Christmas alone every year.
It is just so much less emotionally taxing,
so much easier,
to feel apart while actually alone
than to feel apart in a crowd.
Yawn.
Shrug.
Move on.
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