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Sitting in the waiting room of the women's wing of the hospital, frustration, anxiety and excitement hung thick in the air. Families were congregated in clusters waiting for official birth announcements and a quick glance at their youngest member.

Our family was no different. We claimed a section of chairs near an outlet so we wouldn't have to run down the battery of the laptop. We also picked an area with a good view of one of the televisions. And then we busied ourselves with waiting.

Taking it all in, I sat in proud anticipation of once again becoming an aunt. Hours after my sister-in-law was admitted, nervous energy pulsed through my body -- we would hear news of the baby's arrival at any moment. My nephew was about to make his big entrance into the world.

The nephew seated between my youngest -- his cousin -- and me was about to be squeezed out of his long standing position as the youngest in his family. He was minutes away from losing his "baby" status and becoming an underappreciated, overlooked, extremely adaptable middle child.

I remember when my brother was born. The memories are not as vivid as they used to be, but they remain intact because it was the first really big event of my young life. I was not yet three, but I could feel attitudes changing as people suddenly began referring to me as a big sister.

My big sister, who was five and most likely has much clearer memories of the event, and I were shuffled off to our grandparent's house. It was very early morning. The sky was hazy, with glowing hues of pink and purple emerging from the horizon.

People kept congratulating her on becoming a big sister, but they used the word "again" when they said it to her. It soon became clear she would retain her title of oldest child. But thanks to the arrival of my baby brother, I was suddenly saddled with the label of middle child.

At my grandparent's house, my pop pop gave us big hugs and made us chocolate milk. His pajamas were white with pinstripes. My grandma was still asleep. My sister and I were supposed to go back to sleep after our milk, but I was unable to rest.

On top of all the excitement in the air, swirls of confusion danced around my head. Even at the young age of barely three, I could sense my former status as my parents' cute little baby slipping away into oblivion.

Waiting for my nephew, the familiar excitement was once again intense enough to smell and taste. But I knew that it was also a day my 10-year-old nephew would remember for the rest of his life. Not because he and his cousin got on each others nerves three hours into the wait and had to be temporarily separated, but because it was the day his birth order changed.

His older sister would forever be the oldest. His new baby brother would always be the youngest. But he had to morph from the baby, for which he had 10 years experience, to the middle one. Things would never be the same.

Finally the nurse called our family and gave us instructions to meet the gurney in the hallway. Finally my nephew got the chance to see his brand new brother. Finally Hubby and I got to congratulate the new parents and ooooh and ahhhh over our nephew, even if our first glance was brief. And at the moment, it wasn't so bad being the middle child -- so far.

Hubby took a million pictures and I sent out e-mails to keep our extended family in the loop. That night, Hubby sent out the big e-mail for which everyone had been asking since we announced the baby's safe arrival. That night, family and friends all over the U.S. received baby's first pictures.

That night, my nephew and his cousin played video games and ate fast food. They built a tent out of blankets and planned out which movies they would watch for the next two evenings.

Each night after supper, in preparation for the movie, they received free reign of the kitchen to make homemade buttered popcorn. Each night after supper, I spread an old sheet over the couch where they would sit and watch a movie while eating their greasy snack.

Hubby and I let our nephew pick out his own box of cereal for breakfast. We showered him with attention. We declared that the new baby was extremely fortunate to have HIM as a big brother.

The baby is a wonderful blessing. But so is the fact that my nephew and I now have something big in common. We both have an older sister and a baby brother. We are both the middle child.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.