Cancer stopped me from having a third child -- not physically, but mentally. Still, it hasn't taken away my ability to witness first-hand the miracle of childbirth, to hold a brand new baby in my arms, to lose myself in the wonder of an innocent and unburdened life.

Yesterday, my sister had her second baby girl. I was there -- from morning until evening, while she labored for 12 hours and then delivered a perfect, pink, precious bundle of hope. The whole journey made me cry. I cried for the sheer pleasure of being in the room for such a special occasion, for holding my sister's numb and heavy leg in the correct position, for watching a baby plunge into the world, for cutting the umbilical cord. I cried for the pain my sister endured, for the joy of new beginnings, for all that comes next.

For a moment while I held my new niece, I longed for my own baby. Then thoughts of cancer flooded my mind -- combined with thoughts of sleepless nights and endless shrieks and temper tantrums -- and I realized I am happy just as I am, with my own two little boys and a sweet baby girl I plan to borrow as much as possible.

Welcome to the world, Tori!