One of my oldest friends came to visit this weekend with her husband and daughter. It was a pretty big event since we hadn't met their new addition, yet, and, over the last few years, we've been lucky if we've gotten to see them twice in one year. Sam was amazing with the baby and I was amazed at how nurturing and kind he was with her when nurturing and kind is such a rare occurrence with his own sister.
Even though half of the (waking) visit was spent rounding the kids up for bed, it was still so nice to have them here. We have shared every stage of life starting with our pig-tailed, care-free, playing at her grandparents' farm days through the emotional roller coaster that made up our teenage years. When she lost her brother, I tried to absorb as much of the pain as I could. When I had a devastating diagnosis, she helped me see that I had the support of friends to help me through. Miles between us during college didn't phase us. The year after we graduated we stood beside each other as we both said "I do" two months apart. We've seen miscarriage, two births, infertility, another birth. Now, finally, we get to compare stories as mommies, too.
Saturday night we shared our joys and frustrations that come with motherhood while cleaning up the dinner dishes. A far cry from the happenings of the old days, but definitely the same quality. And, as always, the visit was way too short. I'm now left counting the days until we can squeeze in another few hours in July.
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