Twelve years ago, I became a sister. I was fourteen years old and in the ninth grade. It was a Monday morning around 2am when my mom came into my room to tell me she was going to have the baby. She asked if I wanted to come to the hospital or go to school that day... Let me preface this by saying that I am not a morning person... I chose school because there was no way I was going to wake up at 2am. As first period was ending, an announcement came over the speaker calling me to the main office. The secretary at the desk handed me the phone. "I'm so sorry, dear" she said. My mom was on the other end. She promptly told me that the secretary informed her that students could not simply receive phone calls from the office, so my mother informed her that she was my mom, was in the hospital, and needed to speak with me. That explained the apology from the secretary.
My mom and stepdad had opted not to know the gender of their baby until she arrived. Low and behold, they had a beautiful baby girl... Abigail Eleanor Kennedy. If that's not the fanciest, born to be an important historical figure name, I don't know what is. I ran around school all day telling everyone about my new baby sister. Even today, all my friends from high school remember Abigail as a baby. She was quite the hot commodity. No one else had a sibling so young. She served as my main subject for my photography class sophomore year, and today she still loves to have her picture taken.
Twelve years later, Abigail is the most energetic, intelligent, and caring person I know. She speaks Spanish and she uses words that I didn't know until I had to study for the SATs... and she's only in the sixth grade. She also knows the words to every Taylor Swift song. And on August 3, you will find us at the Verizon Center, rocking out to Taylor with every other twelve year old in the DC area.
Happy birthday, Abigail!