The blanket was made of sterile cotton, but to my trembling arms it felt like velvet. Nine months of tracking size, thinking of names, and dreaming had funneled into this one moment. I could not wrap my mind around it – this was the same face I had seen in the ultrasound pictures, the same feet I had felt kicking, the same butt that was always pressed against my step-mom's stomach. The same person I had been thinking about for nine months. So when my dad carefully placed her small, fragile body into my awaiting hands, the hospital-issued blanket was soon damp with my tears.
This. Is. My. Sister. The thought overwhelmed me. This was the person I would watch grow up, who would watch me grow up. I was staring at her cleft chin, strong as mine, when she opened her eyes.
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