Sisters, Sisters

“’Help one another,’ is part of the religion of sisterhood.”

~ Louisa May Alcott

[Pictured: My sisters, Vicki and Judy, and me!]

I grew up following in the footsteps of my two older sisters, Vicki and Judy, although being my father’s third daughter in a row, often made me wonder if he was secretly disappointed when I was born. However, I am told that when they placed me in my father’s arms and he carried me from the delivery room to the hospital nursery, it was love at first sight.

My sisters were my heroes and my playmates. Vicki, nine years older than me, had always longed for a cuddly, baby sister. Her dreams had vanished when Judy arrived three years later, who refused to be snuggled and caressed or be her baby-doll. So I became Vicki’s baby, carried around like a precious dolly. Competitive by nature, Judy attempted to imitate Vicki. Unfortunately with her short, petite frame, Judy ended up carrying me by my head! Amazingly I survived this contest for my love.

My sister Vicki was so competent in caring for me that eventually my mother gave into Vicki’s plea to be my babysitter, letting her tend me for short periods of time while she was away. Vicki insisted that the hired babysitters were insufficient and that she could do a much better job, and she did!

I remember fun times growing up together with my sisters. We would link arms, doing “Can-can” chorus line high kicks, singing the famous lyrics from the song, “Sisters, Sisters,” from Irving Berlin’s 1954 movie, White Christmas. Words like, “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters,” and “Sharing, caring, every little thing that we are wearing,” are deeply embedded within the memory bank of my “Ya-Ya Sisterhood” days.

I was reminded this week of the numerous times my sister, Vicki, came to my rescue during and following childbirth. She was always there for me even though she was a young busy mother herself. I remember going into labor a week early with my daughter, Aleesha, following a bout of the flu. Vicki cleaned my house and did my wash while I was in the hospital (even all the little extras that sometimes get left in the bottom of the wash bin because you aren’t using them right now). My mother was taking care of my little boy, so Vicki appointed herself housekeeper and clothes washer. I can’t express how uplifting it was to come home to a freshly cleaned house and folded laundry neatly put away, after my rushed hospital entrance. Only another woman can understand how much the gift of cleanliness means to a tired new mom.

Another time I was having a miscarriage and my mother was out of town. I called Vicki and she came running . . . only to find me lightheaded, bleeding profusely, and reading a book called, “How to Clean Everything in your House.” Unable to do anything about the miscarriage I was obviously having, recognized from past experience, I’d decided to do something about my newly purchased, now blood splattered, bedspread and the red blood trail leading to the bathroom from my early morning dash of awakened realization. Obviously alarmed and realizing I was not thinking rationally, Vicki calmly told me to go to the hospital with Dale, and not to worry as she would take care of everything. There are not many people on the planet one can ask to clean up a blood stained bedroom, that at the time resembled more of a crime scene than an actual emergency. Only someone who loves you would do it without a second thought.

It was on an early Sunday morning this month, on November 1st, when my daughter, Ashley, had an unexpected hospital dash of her own. Expecting her second child, she was scheduled for a Tuesday morning C-section that week. All month long she had been preparing for the long awaited day. She had reorganized every room and closet in her home, washed baby clothes, bought the necessary new things, and set up the nursery. We’d joked that even though she was having another C-section, how wonderful it was to be able to know your delivery day and be so prepared. However, as life goes, her little boy, Isaac, became ill just before Halloween, three days before her scheduled delivery. Suddenly there were bathrooms to be re-sterilized, and sheets and towels to be laundered. She planned on doing it all Monday before her hospital entrance.

That Sunday when she called to say she was in labor and they were going to the hospital, I heard tears of mixed emotion in her voice. She had tried so hard to be prepared and have her home ready for her highly anticipated little baby bundle. Things were not going as planned and she felt disorganized, still needing to pack her son to stay with Grandma.

A few hours later all was right with the world as mother and new baby son were safely sleeping in her hospital room. Yet her sister, Rachel, felt the motherly emotion of knowing what’s it’s like to go into labor early, not as prepared as you’d hoped. Rachel and her husband, Gordon, made a trip to Ashley’s house for a quick “Merry Maid” service. Sheets and towels were laundered, carpets vacuumed and floors mopped. The kitchen and bathrooms sparkled and beds were made to perfection. No one but another mom could understand what a gift of love that was from one sister to another. “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!”

“Having a sister is like having a best friend you can't get rid of.

You know whatever you do, they'll still be there.” ~ Amy Li