I also come from a family of five, and growing up with my two younger brothers was an absolute blast. The memories are countless: cavorting in the back of our station wagon while my mom drove the long trek to Disney World; screaming in hysterical terror, while we shook off the caterpillars that clung to our shirts after we dove into piles of fall leaves; and gleefully slapping the backs of each others hands in that never-grows-old-but-is-so-stupid game of who's faster. There are few people in this world that I am closer to or know me better than my brothers.

And yet. I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. When I was a kid, I nagged my mom to have another baby, just hoping that it might turn out to be a girl. (Of course, now, I understand the enormity of my request. Four children?! No wonder my mom said NO.) I sometimes envied Tom and Rob for the brotherly camaraderie they shared. What would it have been like to have a sister, someone with whom I could share a room, gossip and giggle with, and have that special bond?

So when we found out that we were going to have Ellie, I don't know that I could have been happier. Two girls! I would be raising sisters.

It's been such a joy. I love watching them squabble over their stuffed animals. I love the way Keira picks out Ellie's clothes and tells her what to do. I love the way Ellie parrots every word that comes out of Keira's mouth (much to her older sister's frustration). And I love listening to the girls, laying in their bunkbed and whooping and whispering late into the night before finally drifting off to sleep.

It was only a few weeks ago that Keira came running into my room, crying and wanting comfort. "Ellie told me that she wasn't my sister anymore," she sobbed.

I hugged her close and reassured her. "Don't worry, Keira. That will never happen. Once you're born sisters, no matter how happy or angry you are, and no matter what you might say to each other, you will always be sisters forever."