Make Room for Baby on His Birthday

I was 4 years, 4 months, and 20 days old the day I met my brother for the first time.

Pre-Preface (I made that up, I don’t think it’s thing)

This is a reboot of a post I wrote when I was visiting my brother in August 2025, after his motorcycle accident. I’m reviving it, because today is his birthday and I’m not with him. I miss him and I want to celebrate his presence in my life these past 61 years. My family and friends continue to root for him as he continues to heal. It’s slow, but it’s happening, a day at a time.

Original Preface

I wasn’t sure I was going to get a new post written this week. I’m in Los Angeles visiting my brother. It’s my second time in a hospital with him, 60 years after the first. He was in an accident in June and was terribly injured. He’s as beautiful as ever and almost as helpless as the day he was born.

I may write more about this in the coming weeks. I may not. I need time to integrate the shock of seeing him so diminished.

My boy has grit. He’s tenacious as fuck. A fighter. Smart as they come. I choose to trust that he’ll recover. I don’t think he’ll be the same as before, mostly because something this serious changes a person, but he’ll always be the little brother I love and the man I admire.

And, I believe in miracles.

The first time I was in a hospital with my brother was the day of his bris, six decades ago. For those of you not in the know, a bris is the ritual circumcision of a Jewish boy on his eighth day of life. It’s a symbolic practice–and barbaric, in my opinion–demanded of Jewish baby-men (without consent) at birth to seal that good ol’ covenant with god. Ouch.

Welcome to the world, little baby boy. Can I offer you your first serving of PTSD to get you started? You’re eight days old, let the suffering commence!

Mommy is coming home today! She’d been away for a week, and all I know is that when she comes home, she’s bringing me a new brother I can play with and love!

It’s strange; I have no recollection of her being pregnant. I can’t visualize it and after searching through boxes of photos and slide carousels, there seem to be no photographs documenting her body as it changed, her belly growing larger as each month went by. There’s a photo of her pregnant with me, belly and all, but none with my brother.

The day he came home was the day the clock start ticking his presence in my world.

Today is his bris. They keep saying that. I’m home with Daddy and Meme. Meme’s my grandmother. She took care of me the whole time Mom was away. After a quick breakfast, she helps me get dressed. I take a bath, and then she zips me into my beautiful creamy white dress with the fancy pink trim. Daddy designed and sewed it for me. My parents make a lot of my clothes. My father is a clothing designer, and my mom used to be, before they got married and I was born. But since I showed up, her job is to be home with me every day.

We have fun together, just the two of us.

Dad insists I wear my pink Capezio slippers even though I hate them; they hurt my feet after just a few minutes. But this was a special occasion, and he tells me I won’t be walking a lot. He convinces me to do it, “because they’re perfect” with the dress. He packs my navy-blue sneakers in a bag, just in case I need them. That makes me feel a little better.

He hails a Checker Cab and we drive uptown to Mt. Sinai Hospital on 5^th Avenue in New York City. I sit on one of the two fold-out jump seats that are only in Checkers. Checker Cabs are my favorite, because they’re curvy and big and have those special little seats just for me.

Seatbelts? Nuh, uh. Safety wasn’t a thing yet.

When we get to the hospital, I see Nanny and Poppa on the sidewalk, waiting for us. They’re dressed in their best and Poppa doesn’t have his usual cigar between his teeth. We get out of the cab and Meme and Nanny hug, which I think is funny, because I always thought Meme didn’t like Nanny very much. I heard her say it one day to my mom, when they didn’t know I was listening.

Poppa picks me up and zooms me up over his head like I’m flying. I love when he does that with me. He always puts me down too soon. I want it to last forever.

Nanny and Poppa grab each of my hands and we walk toward the big doors of the hospital entrance. I beg them to swing me between them as we go. Mommy and Daddy used to swing me too, but lately they’ve been telling me that I’m getting too big for that. I not even four and half. But I guess I am a big girl, because now I have a little brother.

My aunts and uncles are there too, but not my cousins. I’m the only kid.

We get in a big elevator and go up and up, and then we get off. Everyone’s standing together, talking and laughing.

They hug and kiss me and each other. I have to keep wiping the lipstick off my cheeks. Some of the kisses are a little wet, and I hate that. It reminds me of when Mommy licks her thumb and cleans my face with her spit when I get dirty. Ewww. Her spit is smelly.

This man with a white beard and a big black hat walks up to us, and shakes hands with my father and my Poppa. I’ve never seen him before. My other grandfather, Meme’s husband, isn’t there, because he died before I was born. He died when my Mommy was a little girl. His name started with an “N” too, just like mine. Mommy told me I was named after him, because that’s a Jewish tradition. I’m not sure what a tradition is. She didn’t explain that part.

The man in the black hat opens a door and everyone follows him in. My dad iss the last one and as I walk to the door, he stops me, kneels down to my level and says “Princess Pussycat, you have to stay here and wait for us. This part isn’t for little girls, it’s just for grown-ups.”

I look at him and said, “but Meme said I’m a big girl, now.” Daddy smiles at me, and said “yes, I suppose you are, but you’re not big enough for this. I promise we’ll be back very soon, and then you’ll meet Steven.”

I feel better, and I start getting excited again. My little brother!

Dad points to a bench that’s against the wall in the hallway, and says “sit there, sweetie. I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears into the room and I’m alone.

I sit and wait. As I wait, a very skinny woman with very brown skin sits down on a bench just like mine, across the hallway from me. She’s wearing a white nurse’s uniform, white stockings and shoes, with a little white cap on top of her black hair. She has pointy glasses, just like Meme’s.

I wonder why she’s sitting there, and I smile at her. She’s looking at me, but she doesn’t smile back. I wonder if she’s mad. She has a very serious face.

Dad says he won’t be gone long, but it feels long. It feels too long. Then, I hear a noise. People are cheering and talking and laughing. The door opens, and all of them start coming back into the hallway and they do all the hugging with each other, again. Mommy walks out of the room with Daddy. She’s carrying a small, wrapped bundle in her arms, and smiling a lot.

When she sees me, she hands the bundle to Daddy, squats down, and gives me a big kiss and tells me she missed me. Then, she rubs the lipstick off my cheek with her thumb. She raises her thumb to her mouth to wet it, but I pull away, fast!

She isn’t going to get me this time.

I still don’t know where my brother is. “Where’s Steven?”

“He’s right here, honey. Daddy’s holding him. Wait until we’re in the cab, then we can introduce you. We have one more thing to do, and then we’ll go home. Daddy hands the little bundle back to Mom, and walks over to a small table, where there’s glass of wine and a challah on a big plate. He says some words I don’t understand, and then everyone has a little cup of wine, and a chunk of the bread. I have grape juice because wine isn’t for little girls. Even big, little girls.

It’s time for us to go, and we walk to the elevators together. The brown lady in the white dress stands up from her bench and walks behind us and into the elevator when the doors chime open.

Everyone says goodbye and we get into another Checker Cab. I think Dad waited for one again because he knows I like them. But I see the brown lady standing with Mommy, and when Dads opens the door to the cab, she gets in with us. I realize he got the big one because we need more room. Mom and Dad sit on the regular seat. and the lady and I are on the jump seats. Meme is sitting up front with the cabbie. Why is the brown lady with us? She isn’t in our family. She’s a stranger.

I ask Mom, and she tells me the lady is a baby nurse, and she’s going to stay with us for a few days, to help us settle in. The brown lady talks for the first time and says there are things to know about little boys that are different than things about little girls.

Once we’re in our seats, but before the cab starts to go, Mom and Dad make a spot for me and invite me to sit in between them. I snuggle in and Mommy tilts the bundle that’s supposed to be my brother toward me, so I can see his face. He’s a little funny looking, but mostly I think he’s cute. His eyes are closed; I think he’s sleeping. I want to hold him. Mommy tells me I can hold him later, but not in the taxi. I have to wait until we get home.

We pull up in front of our apartment building, and walk into the lobby, and then take the elevator up to the 3^rd floor where our apartment is. We go right into my bedroom that isn’t my bedroom anymore. It’s mine…and Steven’s, now. I’m excited to have company. There’s a changing table against the wall, at the foot of my bed. Steven’s crib is on the other side of the room. The crib used to be mine, but I don’t remember sleeping in it.

The nurse is standing next to Mommy at the table, and Mom puts Steven down on his back. I sit on my bed and watch.

I find out right away what the brown lady means about the difference between boys and girls. Mommy unpins the sides of his diaper, and as she’s taking his dirty one off, the nurse says quickly, but not quickly enough, not to take the diaper off without keeping Steven’s “thing” covered. She calls it a thing. But Mom pulls the diaper off, and as she does, Steven makes a sissy. It squirts straight up into the air, and splashes Mommy in the face. She shakes her head, and laughs, looks at me and laughs some more, and uses a clean diaper to wipe it off.

I learn the right way to diaper a boy. I pay close attention, because I want to know how to do it one day, too.

I miss that baby boy, with the white-blond hair that got him so much attention. I miss the playful, mischievous kid, the teenager and the water fights we’d have in our kitchen when our parents were out. That kid with so much talent. I miss the man who loved his motorcycle and the long distance trips he longed to ride solo. I miss the talented, passionate photographer who shared his work on Instagram. I miss the man he was before the accident.

It doesn’t take much to love the man he is today. no matter what.

He’ll always be my baby boy.

The first day of my brother’s life.

Afterword

Throughout the years, whenever mom and dad talked about that day and my brother’s bris, they always told the same story. Before the rabbi*, performed the circumcision, he prayed, dipped his pinky into a glass of wine, and he touched that pinky to Steven’s lips, offering him his first blessing of the fruit of vine. The wine was part of the ritual. I always hoped it helped relax him. But my parents would laugh, because when Steven tasted the wine, he licked his lips, twice. I guess he liked it.

The wine, I mean, not the rest. And yes, ouch, every time I think about it.

*A “mohel,” one trained in the ritual of circumcision.

Here’s a link to a Note I posted about my trip to LA last year, if you’d like to read about a couple of major miracles I experienced while traveling.

I’m so grateful when readers decide to support my writing financially by becoming paid subscribers, so if you want to do that, thank you, thank you!

Here’s a thing you can do that doesn’t cost a penny. On the top or bottom of the story, you can click on the “♥️” to like my essay, click on the speech bubble (💬) and leave a comment, and/or click on the little spinny arrow thingy (♻️) and restack the post (“restack” means “share” in Substackese).

Those three actions will help me reach more readers.

Tips are always welcome and so appreciated.

All proceeds from today’s post will be donated to my brother’s healthcare costs.