... I wasn't a whole lot more ready than I was eighteen years ago. In fact, I was less ready - we only had a girl's name and not a boy's. We brought the baby name book along to the hospital. But we did have other important things done. Our four year old had already had his birthday party with our playgroup. And we had arranged with my in-laws to come and get him while we went to the hospital. All three of our children came early - my daughter was the least early at ten days ahead of due date.
Labor wasn't as long, but the midwife gave me something to "take the edge off" of the pain - which, with my sensitivity to drugs, made me sleep except at the worst parts of labor. I remember, after my daughter was born and they were weighing her, etc., desparately trying to stay awake - "That's my baby crying over there." I ended up sleeping all afternoon while my husband snuggled our new daughter. Although "new" is an interesting way to put it - I was well aquainted with "baby bumpy" as I called her in the womb - by far the most active of the babies in my three pregnancies. She was born at around 8 am on Valentine's Day - our best anniversary present.
Fourteen years isn't that long, right? It's only the previous decade, rather than two decades ago. And, back in 1992, we had a Bush in the White House and we had been at war in Iraq.
But, now I look up at her (she's at least four inches taller than I am so far) or even further up at her if she's on pointe shoes (she started pointe last week!). The little girl who used to dance around the living room, to music at the Ninth Street Bakery or to the processional music at church has now focused her attention and energy on ballet.
She's bright, sweet, determined, questions everything, and a joy to have around.