When four-year-old Esther found out a little brother or sister was on its way, she made up her mind: his name is Thomas.
Over the next few months, the baby was unnamed, unknown. But always in Esther’s mind he remained Thomas. She would talk about Thomas. She would look forward to meeting Thomas. She would feel sad when Thomas made Mommy so tired. Thomas…Thomas…Thomas. It didn’t matter that he could be a she, to Esther he (or she!) was definitely a Thomas.
Somewhere along the way, the name stuck. When he was born at 4:26am one Friday morning, his parents looked at their son and knew: his name is Thomas.
Welcomed into the world by an older brother and two older sisters, Thomas is loved and cherished and treasured and cuddled. The siblings look at him in awe, marveling at how long they had to wait to meet their new brother; amazed at his tininess, his cuteness, his loudness, his cuddliness, his smelliness.
Oh, and P.S.: in a few short weeks, Thomas and his siblings will officially be my nieces and nephews. I’ve never been an Aunt before. Think I’ll do a good job of filling the role?