To this day, I will never know what compelled me to take a pregnancy test. I wasn’t even really late, maybe by a day or so, but being an irregular period person, of anywhere from 24-26 days, I was still considered right in my regular window. I was even less prepared when that little line came up positive. It was like she was speaking to me from the depths of my uterus. Telling me that she was there, and waiting. I know that sounds corny, but I had no real reason to even believe I was pregnant. It was one of those subliminal thoughts in my head, like “oh, I have this stick, it needs to be peed on, just because I don’t want it to expire.” When I saw the second line, I shook my head. Then I shook the test. Then I held it up to the light, just to make sure that someone at Clearblue Easy wasn’t fucking with me. Surely, this had to be a false positive. I went out to the drug store, and bought a three pack. And then another three pack.
And at that very moment, I knew there was nothing I wanted more than to have this baby. Even despite all of the bad feelings that floated around the house. I immediately called an OB, had a quick exam, got a beta, and a prescription for some progesterone supplements. If it was going to go tits up, I at least wanted it to be because of the fact that there was something wrong with the embryo, not because my fucked up body couldn’t sustain the pregnancy. I thought I’d be drinking by the weekend, and when the weekend rolled around, and the beta numbers kept rising, I thought, “well, surely by Monday.” And Monday passed with higher beta numbers. 5 weeks turned into 7. 7 turned into the second trimester, and so forth and so on. The whole pregnancy, much like the Mini’s was full of deep bad thoughts of losing this child. This child that fought so hard for her creation.
When she was born, and came out screaming, good and pissed off about being ripped out of my uterus, probably nowhere near ready to leave (despite the fact that it’s a toxic wasteland, they like the late checkout option, apparently), I cried so hard. Holding an infant, just two short years after my first, was so surreal, and bizarre. Right from the get go, she had a temper. She was completely the opposite of our mellow son, who yes, screamed for three hours every night for 8 weeks straight. She would just get pissed off. Those first weeks, I remember were absolute hell with her. Wondering what I had gotten myself into. And at the same time, I cherished it. Sleeping with her on my chest, having her snuggle up next to me. Sure, it was hell, and yes, I was bitter about not having my time with the Mini at times, but she was my little sidekick. She suckered me into sleeping in our bed until she was about six months old, and I loved it. Having her sleep next to me was a high.
This year just went, so fast. I feel as though, yes, the years with the Mini have zipped by, but at the same time, I felt like they went mind numbingly slow. With LG, I’ve been hanging onto babyhood, and against my will, it’s slowly slipped away from me, making way for toddlerhood.
At one year, LG is a person. Complete with attitude. She is all girl, loving her dollies, and stuffed animals. She loves shoes, and will often bring them over to me and stick her feet out, impatiently motioning for me to put them on, so she can admire them. This behavior makes me worry for the future of my wallet. The other day, she put a cup holder on her wrist and pretended it was a bracelet. I’ll admit, I’m loving all the girly things she does. I can’t wait to get her little doll strollers and other things that scream little girl. I love matchbox cars and trucks, don’t get me wrong, but I’m happy to have the change of scenery.
LG has learned the world of expressions. One of her favorites being the stink eye. She tilts her head down and raises her eyebrow, if you ask her something that she wants no part of. Something she learned from me while playing the “sit on your hiney” game that we often play during bath time. She loves to make kissy faces and monkey faces. On top of her expressions, she is very discriminate and demanding in her likes and dislikes. She is vocal in letting me know what she wants, which after having a child that has a hard time communicating, is not only a relief, but easy. A couple of weeks ago, she was asking, lo, demanding for her “teeth” (aka, toothbrush), from the bathtub. I kindly told her she could have it after her bath, to which she replied “DONE!” And then after getting all wrapped up, felt the need to remind me, that she wanted her toothbrush. At a year, she has so many words, it borders on ridiculous. Even if some of them sound the same, she’s able to get her needs met. It’s refreshing to have that and I’m constantly amazed at her ability to repeat words at this age, or at all. I don’t take it for granted and I love watching her make connections and associations. Even after going through it once, it’s still just as amazing the second time.
At one year, she’s STILL not yet walking. Something I thought for sure, she would be doing early, like her brother. I figured she would want to do what he’s doing, but she has absolutely no desire to give up being carted around in someone’s (usually mine) arms. I know she can take a couple of steps here and there, and she stands unassisted with no problem for long periods of time (she took TWENTY TWO steps yesterday, but will still only walk when she damn well feels like it, and that’s usually when someone isn’t paying 100% attention to her). She wants no part of it. That’s probably the only thing about babyhood that I’m NOT hanging onto.
Dear baby girl,
You have taught me things about being a mother, that I never would have had the pleasure of knowing. While life has been hectic, you bring more happiness and joy into our lives, and I am so honored that you picked us.
Happy 1st Birthday, Baby. Thank you for being you.