When I was two months pregnant with my first child, my older sister called and asked if she could move in temporarily with my partner and me. She needed a fresh start and had decided to move interstate from the Gold Coast, Australia, where we grew up, to Melbourne, where I had been living for about a year.
At the time, my partner Sam and I were living in an old 1950s two-bedroom flat. I’d lived with my sister before in my 20s, so I knew she was easy to live with. After chatting with Sam about it, he said he didn’t mind her crashing for a while until she got on her feet.
And so, a few weeks later, my sister arrived on our doorstep.
At first, living together was great
Luckily, my partner and sister have always got on well. Years ago, the three of us traveled through Laos and Thailand together, then later we backpacked around Cuba with my sister, so there was a lot of shared history between us.
Those first couple of months living together were really fun. My sister landed a corporate job in the city and quickly settled into Melbourne life. Melbourne is a cosmopolitan city that’s known for its vibrant festival scene, which we embraced wholeheartedly. Every weekend, we would head to an international festival or cultural celebration together.
Courtesy of Melissa Noble
The household dynamic worked really well to start with. My sister paid rent, which helped us financially. We took turns cooking, and everyone got along. I remember coming home to find my partner squeezing my sister’s blackheads on the couch one night and thinking, “Wow, this has taken their bond to a whole new level.”
It was a time of transition, and things became a little tense
But it was also a really hectic time for Sam and me. I was battling the trials and tribulations of the first trimester of pregnancy and working full-time as a journalist, while Sam was trying to build his remedial massage business.
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Within a few weeks of my sister living with us, Sam proposed to me. We’d been together for about eight years by that point, and with a baby on the way, marriage seemed like the logical next step. Suddenly, there was a wedding to arrange, which added to the stress levels.
After the wedding and honeymoon, I started to feel like the living arrangement wasn’t really working out. My pregnancy was getting further along, and my hormones were raging. My sister was in a different phase of life. She was in party mode, while I wanted to nest, decorate the baby’s nursery, and relish that so-called newlywed bliss that everyone talks about.
After a while, things became a little tense in the household. I began to feel like we needed our own space. I’m not very good at being direct with people, so I’d discreetly ask my sister how the house hunt was coming along. She eventually got the message and found a flat for herself after five months of living with us.
Courtesy of Melissa Noble
My sister moved out, and our relationship returned to normal
As soon as she had her own place, our relationship went back to the way it had been before. Sam and I were able to spend some quality time together alone before our son was born and our lives changed forever, while my sister could party guilt-free at her own digs.
Our son is 10 now, and my sister and I live in different states. She has a beautiful little girl of her own and has left the partying days behind. We’re still as close as ever despite the eight-year age difference between us, and we often reflect on the happy memories we made in Melbourne together all those moons ago.