My sister had her baby on Tuesday. They named him August Everett, and I had the privilege of being there at the birth of my newest nephew. I watched her, standing there in the middle of the room, up on her toes, crying out in pain, her arms around her husband, him supporting her with everything in him, the midwife holding warm cloths against her to ease the pain, birthing her child. It all happened so quickly, and I couldn't see well from where I was standing, but all of a sudden there the baby was under her. I looked around the room at all the teary-eyed women, and at Rachel cradling her tiny boy against her now empty abdomen, stroking his lovely newborn skin, the tears streaming down, all the pain and hard work melting into joy; and at Jason kissing her and the baby; and at the girls, already so taken up with their brand new brother; everyone exclaiming how perfect he is. And it was all so beautiful. I marvel at the miracle of birth and new life. One that so few ever get to witness first hand. And I hope that someday, if I am ever to have children, it will be just like that - in the comfort of home, supported by the man I love, surrounded by the women closest to me.