5. Even Phyllis Cried

I grew up with a truly phenomenal human named Phyllis. Allow me to explain. She moved in with me when I was about 8 years old and moved out when she went to study medicine. We had a very long journey together. I can tell you with absolute honesty that in all those years of sharing a room and living like sisters, I never ever saw Phyllis lose her temper or freak out. Not once. Even when we had a crazy lady chase us with a crowbar - that's a story for another day - she just laughed while our other friend Bailey and I screamed and cried. At every moment in life, Phyllis has been akin to the Rock of Gibraltar. Firm, unshakeable, solid, immovable, consistent, phenomenal. She is now a doctor. (I personally feel like all the practice she got patching me up as a kid was the preparation for her MD status now.) I won't even spend time telling you that she's basically Jesus in girl form, and that she's beyond talented in literally every single life department. Without her, I would never have survived school. She put up with me and for that she deserves a trophy. I have seen her encounter the most difficult things life can throw at a person and come out stronger and more victorious. She's quiet, calm, and hums away merrily no matter what. She is one of my daughter's godmothers and I am so thankful that Nevaeh will grow up with such an incredible force of peace by her side. 

Ok, so I have explained to you briefly about Phyllis' magnificence. Now we are getting to my point in all of this. She fell pregnant about a year after I did. Nevaeh was born on June 15th 2016, and Katie (her offspring) was born on June 7th 2017. She literally married a rocket scientist and so I think Katie might be the smartest human being ever born. I digress. So Phyllis had a baby. And this wonder of a person - doctor extraordinaire, resembles Jesus, calm even when we are caught in a hurricane, saved me when I had a terrible skiing accident, pillar of strength and serenity - has been shaken by the tiny person she gave birth to. Even Phyllis cried. The same anxieties, frustrations and unknowns that accompany new little people arriving and turning our lives upside down even afflicted Phyllis. Somehow as I was able to offer empathy and "I promise it'll be ok" texts to her in the midnight hours, I myself was comforted. Babies are a whirlwind and they have the ability to bring even the strongest among our species to our knees. 

The good news is that it's a season. It does pass. I have been told repeatedly that I will miss these moments of exhaustion and the joy that comes with a toothy grin and squeaks of delight at seeing her favorite balloon, because they will never be there again and are more precious than can possibly be explained. As I walk with Phyllis through her new role as mother, I am reminded that we are stronger than we think, even when we feel shattered and weaker than we would ever want to admit. It is an incredible privilege for me to be able to offer some understanding, compassion and laughs for Phyllis at this stage of life. For once I am able to give back to her. And the only reason for that is because I'm a year and a bit in with my own motherhood experience. Comparison sucks the sisterhood out of our journeying. I say NO to comparison and YES to compassionate companionship. Yes, Phyllis is still absolutely magnificent and is making books for my offspring with her own hands while dealing with a colicky baby herself. No, I won't ever be able to do that. But what I can do, I will do. We as mothers are all in this craziness called life together.