A week ago I put my hand on your mom's belly and told you it was time to come out.
On Friday, even your mom put her hand on her belly and begged you to come out.
And on Sunday night, at 8:18 pm, I watched you, Sadie Margaret Robert, come into the world. I have a photo of your first breath because I'm a crazy aunt who kept her iPhone next to your mom's head, but I have a feeling you won't want me to show anyone. I still haven't forgiven Grandma for keeping that picture of me at 140 lbs displayed. IN OUR FRONT HALL, NONETHELESS.
On Sunday night, our family changed. It grew by an 8 pounder with red hair and chubby cheeks. It added a new heartbeat–yours. And that new heartbeat changed all of ours.
Sadie, you are joy. I am looking forward to you fetching me Entenman's donuts while I'm living on Mommy and Daddy's couch and writing dystopian novels for children that oddly never sell. I'm looking forward to teaching you to boogie board, and play basketball (sorry dude, Mama can't dribble) and rock flannel way better than the other hipster infants.
I'm going to take you to Brookyn and Los Angeles and I am going to love you harder than I have ever loved anyone. I already do.
Sadie, welcome to the world. It's a scary, strange and beautiful place, but you are surrounded by all the love we could possibly summon. We are so happy you are here.
Your Aunt Kelly