So Far...

So Jason and I were watching Desperate Housewives tonight (don't judge...) and one of the topics discussed in the episode was children who are destined for greatness. Eva Longoria had dreams of a daughter who grew into a famous actress. Felicity Huffman envisioned her possibly disabled son graduating law school. I thought to myself, "well, duh. Every parent believes that their child is special - unique...meant for great things". As someone who works in child care, I see all too often examples of these parents and the results of their (often horribly misplaced) faith in the greatness of their children. Don't get me wrong -all children are blessings-but really, a fourth grader telling an adult to "shut the *obscenity* up" is not a result of the child's "mature understanding of his constitutional right to free speech". Really, a parent actually argued this. Anyway, as Jason and I were discussing our hopes for our own daughter, we realized how special she already is. So now, because I'm a soon to be mom and I can, and because my own mother keeps asking me to update this blog, I am going to brag about my daughter. My Lily. And how, even before she has taken her first breath, she is special.

In the beginning of the pregnancy, within weeks of us finding out she was on her way, Lily's strength was put to the test. It was a rough few months. Most women get some kind of nausea in the beginning, but even I knew that it wasn't normal. My heart and soul were fighting for her, but my body was not making it easy. Nothing would stay down. No food. Not even water. Bed-ridden for weeks, out of work for over a month, and bi-weekly trips to Urgent Care for IV fluids, I felt like I had already failed as a mother. I had nothing to offer my growing baby. Nothing. Within the first few weeks, I had lost ten pounds. The majority of the time I was praying for relief, the rest of the time I was waiting for a sign to tell me that she had given up - that she had let go. She didn't. Through trial and error with different medications I was finally able to sit up on my own. Then stand on my own. Then walk from point A to point B without diving for the nearest bathroom somewhere in between. When the worst was over, Jason and I went to our 20 week ultrasound. It was on this day we found out not only were we expecting a little girl, but one that, so far, had everything she needed to come out healthy and strong. Somehow, completely on her own - 'cause I sure couldn't help - she had pulled herself through.

Jason says she's stubborn (like her mother). And she is. She has very definite opinions already. She likes orange juice. She hates curry. She is more comfortable when I lay on my right side rather than my left. Already I feel like her personality is so strong - and I haven't even met her face to face yet. A friend of mine who is also pregnant said the other day that it is amazing how you can be so in love with someone you've never even met. She's right. I feel like I already have a handle on who this little one is. I don't need to see her. My mother says I'm going to miss this time with her. This closeness. She says I'll miss having her near me always - I'll miss knowing that I'm never alone. As of right now, the whole being pregnant thing is wearing on me. My back, front, feet, head...it all hurts. I miss sushi. I miss coffee. I miss the occasional cocktail. I miss shopping for regular-sized clothes. I miss wearing regular-sized clothes. I began this blog so I wouldn't forget the little things - the little moments Lily and someday perhaps her siblings will bring. I hadn't really planned on starting posting until after she was born - until I knew her. But then I realized I already do know her. And these little things - her preference for OJ; her shameless kick-requests for me to change positions - mixed with the big things like her will and ability to survive against all odds - are the very things I set out to record; the very things I want to remember. So far, my daughter is stubborn. So far, my daughter is strong. So far, my daughter is special.