10 unfiltered thoughts I had the moment I became an aunt
Call me big mummy Abby
One thing about being close to a writer, whether as a sibling, friend, or partner, is that at some point, you’re going to end up in their story. It’s part of the job description. I collect people and moments like receipts, and today, my brand-new nephew is the main character in mine.
Because... drumroll please... I’m officially an aunt!
And honestly, it feels surreal. My brother is suddenly a dad (again), and there is a tiny human in this world who looks suspiciously like him. A child! A child that carries my brother’s face, my brother’s stubborn jaw, my brother’s entire existence in miniature form. How? How did we get here so quickly? Weren’t we just children ourselves? Playing, fighting, growing up together.
Life, it seems, has a way of sprinting past when you’re not looking. And then suddenly, you blink, and there he is. A baby. My nephew. A living, breathing reminder that time is real and we are, in fact, growing up whether we like it or not.
Anyway, here’s a rundown of every (slightly dramatic but honest) thought that ran through my head when I realized I was officially an aunt:
Babies are so… tiny. Holding them must be terrifying. They feel like delicate porcelain dolls that could break if you blink too hard.
Do fathers determine the look of the baby? I guess I need to revisit my biology notes because how does he look exactly like Adeleye? Copy and paste. God didn’t even bother pressing shuffle. Which is weird, because now I’m basically staring at a baby version of my brother.
What’s this crying business? Eyes. Stop. Now. I’m not crying, you’re crying. Damn, I am such an emotional wreck cos why can’t I stop crying at the sight of this beautiful baby?
Pregnancy is no joke. Shout out to every woman who has walked that journey...Am I even sure I want to walk that journey too? Cos Omo, this is literally a near-death experience.
God abeg don’t let me die in Nigeria, so this boy doesn’t end up calling me BIG MUMMY NIGERIA.
Relocation sounded exciting until I realized it means missing so many “firsts.” First word, first laugh, first tooth, first almost everything. Ouch. I guess I’ll become a cool long-distance aunt who sends gifts and random video calls.
Yoruba people and baby names, whew! Why does this child have plenty of names? Why are the great-grandparents having dibs on naming rights? Will he even remember everything when he is older?
Do babies judge you silently? Because I swear, he is giving his parents side-eye every time lol. I don’t blame you, child. We are otePola, not oteDola.
I need to learn how to talk to kids. Is there any class for this? Cos sign me up asap. I suck at this.
This little human is ours. And I am incredibly in love with him.
So yes, I’m officially an aunt. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because this is what love does: it shows up, wraps itself around you, and suddenly you’re smitten over someone who can’t even hold their own neck up yet. If this is what the auntie life is about, then sign me up forever.
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