My sister Clara and I have always been close, even with a six-year gap. She’s the youngest, and my mom has always been more protective of her—but I never thought much of it.
Until last week.
We were both pregnant, due a month apart, joking about raising best friends. Then one night, I went into labor. I called my mom, and she said she was on her way.
Minutes later, Clara called—her water had broken.
My mom didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go to Clara first. She’s younger. You’ll cope on your own.”
That was the first time it truly hit me.
I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Holding her should have been pure joy—but part of me felt empty. I texted my mom, excited to share the news.
Her reply broke me: “Your sister’s baby is so beautiful! You have to see her! I’ll come after she’s settled.”
No “How are you?” No acknowledgment of my baby.
We’ve been home for a day now. She still hasn’t come. Just a casual text: “Hope you’re doing well.”
I haven’t answered.
I love my sister, and I am happy for her. But I can’t ignore this pain. My mom was there for my first birth… but not this one.
So now I’m left wondering—do I finally say something… or accept that I was never her priority?
