In one hour, my daughter Beatrix will be one year old. I can't believe we made it. Well, I can believe she made it-- she's a tough lil' bunny. What I can't believe is that I made it.
Because it seems to be more or less traditional, I'll mention a few of the things I was thinking and going through a year ago today as I lay sleepless and cetacean-like at 9+ months.
"Holy crap, I'm having a baby tomorrow. That's a weird thing to know for sure. Most people have no idea how long it will take. I have an appointment. WITH THE BABY."
"I hope I don't die on the operating table because I would hate to have my one and only sojourn in a hospital be my last. I'd never get to find out if hospital food sucks as much as everyone says." (The answer, for the record is: somewhat.)
"Girl or boy? Girl or boy? Girl or boy? Girl or boy?"
"God, how can he sleep? Should I poke him? No, better not. One of us should get some sleep. That's what real parents say, right?"
15 hours after this late-night conversation with myself, I was the mother of the most beautiful baby girl to ever grace this earth.
A shout-out to my support team: My husband Josh, father of said gorgeous creature; my sister Amy, a beacon of calm and sanity and enthusiasm; the anesthesiologist, Anna, who held my hand and didn't bullshit me on what was going to happen; my sweet OB, Dr. H., who discussed the merits of Kill Bill with her operating partner while stitching up my gaping belly, thus inadvertently reassuring me; whoever invented Percoset, which I downed like candy for the next three days.
Happy birthday, sweet girl. I want to see you mash that cake tomorrow.
--Love, Mama
Posted by designatedgirl at November 13, 2004 10:56 PM