The 28th of June my sister gave birth to her third child. A beautiful baby girl named Charlie.

The moment I received the message she was born, I was overrun with emotion. I wanted to race down the hospital to congratulate my sister, and off course meet my new little niece. I was at the physical therapist at that time, and when I finally got home, Ramon was there as well for a pit stop between clients. I jumped around his neck to say hello, and tell him the news of little Charlie being born. I rushed through the things I had to do before I could go, and had to catch my breath in the meantime. My body was shaking all over, and every deep breath was quickly followed by the next one. I wanted to give Ramon a quick hug and kiss when I was ready to go, but when I wanted to let him go, he pulled me tighter. Then he whispered in my ear; ‘Take it easy, it’s just another floor in a hospital you visit almost daily. You just go in and out, to congratulate your sister. You can do this.’


There were the tears that I clearly pushed away so hard. I didn’t want to know what was the matter, even though I knew off course.  Why I felt so nervous, and sad, and scared, where there only ought to be exhilarating joy and happiness to welcome my little niece, and visit the most happy floor in a hospital.  The pressure that was pounding on my chest, was the anger for feeling these feelings together with the happiness and exhilarated joy that were also there. I didn’t want to give room for the other feelings. I’m not allowed, it’s not about me, it’s about my sister. So don’t be such a baby! But when Ramon said those words together with his ever so tight hug, I dried my tears, and looked  in his eyes when I let go, and smiled. ‘You’re right. It’s just another floor. Nothing to it. I can do this. This is a happy time!’



When I arrived at the hospital, I bought a pink balloon at the gift shop. With every step I came closer to the maternity ward, I squeezed my hand tighter around the balloon, and my heart beat like a kettle drum. I took several deep breaths when I opened the door, and let the happiness seep on in.

I was so proud of my sister. Even though she looked tired, she looked beautiful. And when my eye caught little Charlie, I instantly fell in love. I looked at her, but was afraid to touch her. So I didn’t.  I sat down, and watched my other niece being totally in awe with her new little sister, and my nephew acting the total opposite.  I smiled, because my nephew and niece were as if I watched my feelings had come to life. I was in love and in awe of this tiny human being, and I was acting like it didn’t do me anything at all, to keep my emotions in check.



And the longer I watched  Angel, the more I couldn’t control my emotions anymore. It is an image that is seared in my brain. The love she had for her sister was so beautiful and real.  I wanted to cry. I wanted to do the ugly cry. So it was time to leave. I gave my sister a kiss, and promised I would come back later together with Ramon.

When I came home, both Kuzco and Malha had clearly felt my energy when I left. But Kuzco knows me for over 10 years now. So he knows what’s going on, but little Malha was rather upset. And I don’t believe Kuzco explained it very well to her. Better yet I think he told her, I had left because I was sad and disappointed in Malha, and Ramon left too off course for the same reason.  So now they may never come back again….

Yes, Kuzco has a dark side inside of him….

When I came home, she was even more happy than usual, and had her face covered in sunflower remainders. She proudly picked up one completely torn flower, as if to say, ‘Look, I’ve counted all the leaves, and only two remained. The last one was going to be “she loves me, and will come back home”. And you are!!! You are home, and you love me!!!!!’



I didn’t smile on the spot, because ….. my beautiful sunflowers!!!!  ……



But then I saw her face, and I could only laugh and hug her. Off course Kuzco waited until I wouldn’t sound angry, so when he heard me laugh, he pushed himself between me and Malha for a group hug.