Thoughts on being an "auntie"

They were my first babies. Every afternoon I would eagerly show up at their home after I finished my day at the high school. I would scoop them up and kiss their cheeks, then see what new and exciting trick they had learned since I left the night before. Their mom and I became fast friends, and I learned their schedule well enough I could recite it-or execute it-in my sleep. The boys' daddy was far away bandaging up the broken, so she and I, we loved them well in his absence while also praying that he would return quickly. I will never forget the day they both had to be admitted to the hospital. At nine months old, their little bodies had been ravaged by a horrible virus and they needed some extra R&R to fight it off. I was a freshman in high school and was terrified. I did not give birth to them, but I would have done anything in my power to protect them and make them better...as if they were my own. 

I could tell you about my other family. I watched them grow and sprout and we made carnivals and learned the piano. We told fairytales about the antics of our dinner foods, and I sang the little girls to sleep. A new baby came, and I loved her immediately and fiercely. It wasn't long before new adventures took them away. I never could have known, though, that tragedy would land me back in their arms (and this time, their home as well) only a year later. Baby girl was bigger now, and although it took her a little while to remember our mutual adoration for each other, affection returned and soon her little chubby arms would curl around my neck and she would cry out "Abidale!!!" whenever I walked into her room. Those kids, they were my healing. They loved me through a hard season of grief, and I loved them back. We walked the journey to Little Brother together, praying and fingerprinting and running frigid hot chocolate stands in the middle of snowy winter, earning the ransom to bring him home. We talked about hard things, and stroked backs when sickness came, and made "welcome home!" signs to greet Little Brother. Little Brother is not so little anymore, and the Welcome Home Crew is nearly taller than I am, but they are still my "little" brothers and sisters. When they drive and marry and have babies of their own, I will still look at them and remember the baby hugs and bedtime snuggles and hours spent playing board games...those years are forever imprinted on my heart. 

I cannot forget the next threesome. They were my teachers, my get-out-of-bed, life's-not-over motivators. She would slip under the covers with me on gray days and whisper secrets about her stuffed animal friends. We would craft together and I would try out new hairstyles on their angelic white-blonde crowns. He and I, we would shoot baskets or throw a football together while teasing and talking about life. They taught me what it means to never give up, even when life is hard or other people don't understand the struggles you face. 

And of course I can't stop without talking about the heart-bursting ache I have for my newest babies. To watch big siblings step into their roles, to bake cinnamon rolls and eagerly wait for pictures of their growing family...there is honestly nothing sweeter. These days, I cannot wait to scoop those babies up each day when I get home. When I am gone, I miss them so much it almost hurts. I cannot describe the joy of watching two kids I have known since birth pick up their baby siblings and love them HARD. It has been the biggest privilege to walk this journey with their mom and dad, to see how much these babies were longed for, and now that they are here, to kiss their cheeks and hold them when they are sick, and even to rock them when they won't sleep at night. It is the most extravagant gift God could give me in the in-between. To be part of a family, to be part of the miracle of new life, to be invited into the hardest of transitions and the most vulnerable moments a family will experience...what an indescribable blessing. If God never gives me a family of my own someday, THIS...this will be enough. 

In our culture, we take pride in the degree to which we don't need anyone else. This pursuit of extreme independence seeps into the American parenting philosophy, turning mothers against other mothers simply because they disagree over birthing methods or stand on different sides of the vaccination debate. In other parts of the world, parenting is a community effort. Mothers link arms with other mothers, sharing hardships and victories on a daily basis and holding each other up when the days get long and the nights longer. "Aunties" play important roles in the lives of children as they grow and learn how to integrate into society. There is no such thing as days spent at home alone with the children. Instead, days are spent in each other's homes and company, working and playing and parenting together. 

I am not a parent, but I have had the unique privilege of watching many different men and women become parents. From where I stand, having observed many different parenting styles and techniques, I can say (in my humblest of opinions) that the single most important thing you can do for your children is to invite someone else--an "auntie," so to speak--into their lives. Parents are not superheroes, and not one of us is perfect. We need each other.

 

I love being an "auntie," and I need these kids in my life. God has blessed me tremendously and taught me so much through the families that have become my own. I trust that I have positively impacted those kids and parents as well, as I have invested and spoken truth into their lives. If you are a parent, don't try to go it alone...the journey is too long, and the mountains too steep. Find your people, and stick to them. Your kids, your family, even the "aunties" who invest in your kids' lives will be better off because of your resolve to parent together.