Innies and Outies

So, three years ago today we got the official word from the doctor that we were going to have a baby. I'd sucked up all my courage, let them take copious amounts of blood out of my arm, and within minutes: we knew we were going to be parents.

One of us (me) was ecstatic. One of us (M) was scared to death.

Both of us were nauseous.

It's been a pretty special ride, these last three years. From seeing those first "extra" lines on the pee stick, to the blood test, to hearing her heartbeat on the Doppler for the first time, to the quickening, to the first time she made my belly jump with her movements, to giving birth and that seemingly endless moment when I waited to hear her cry; how tiny she was and how completely clueless we were. Through first dirty diaper; first smile; first time sleeping through the night; first words; first steps; first bee stings; first move; first day of school--all of it. Being a mom is like nothing I imagined. If I had imagined it, I probably would never have done it. But having done it: I wouldn't trade it for the world. Motherhood has taught me that in some cases, ignorance is indeed bliss.

I was giving her her bath last night. Sweet chubby toddler legs and arms, sweet toddler belly, delicious little baby bottom. She was playing with her bellybutton, "Dis is my beep-beep, Mama." I looked at her belly button. It (like everything else about her) is beautiful. I remember when it was hidden by the cord stump, and how angry M and I got when his mother made it bleed when she changed her. I remembered the wet snick of the scissors moments after she was born and her life was officially biologically severed from mine. And I marveled that this small girl, who loves Dora the Explorer (especially Boots the Monkey) and raisins, and swings, and coloring was the same baby that lived and moved inside my belly. Sometimes it's hard to remember that.

I marvel at that little beep-beep...through it, I nourished her and kept her alive. Oxygen, blood, food--everything that she needed for 38.6 weeks came to her through that cord. And I marvel that even though it was cut mere seconds after she came out of my body, there were already other cords being formed--cords that bind us together more completely than that umbilical cord ever did. Trust, love, friendship, protection, fun, tenderness...all of it serves to bind us closer to one another today than we were three years ago today.

As I write, I'm listening to M and Linnea playing in the living room. Linnea is singing a song about how much she loves Dora. M is trying to convince her that "Finding Nemo" is just as much fun to watch as "Dora" (especially since we haven't seen "Nemo" four times a day for the last four months). Nea is strong, sassy, opinionated, independent and stubborn. All this adds up to a challenging child to parent. But I wouldn't trade any moment of the last three years for anything.

Love you, Sweetie Pea.