Last week the miracle happened. On Friday, the 11th, I gave birth to a baby girl. She was and still is a long skinny thing, weighing 6 lbs 12 oz and 21 inches long. She is totally beautiful (and yet I recognize that most babies are quite ugly as newborns—so either parenthood blinds me or she really is quite stunning). She makes a million and one different facial expressions over the course of a million and one seconds (or maybe just half that much). And in those moments when I’m not on the verge of passing out from exhaustion/lack of sleep, I look at her and am overwhelmed. And as a friend with a 3-year-old agreed, overwhelmed is an understatement, but it will have to do in explaining the feeling that comes over you when you hold, touch, smell and hear this tiny thriving being that your body somehow created. Perhaps even mind-blowing is an understatement. And I was tempted to blame the reaction on my hormones dancing the samba, waltz and the lock-and-pop of the robot all at the same time (a very confused dance as I’m sure you can imagine), but even my husband commented on the feeling of being overwhelmed. So, it is more than hormones to be sure.

Unfortunately, photographs don’t do her justice. Or maybe it is the photographer. I’m still figuring out the camera I bought for my trip to the UK. Anyway, she is a thousand times cuter in person, at least. And when she smiles (which I still have yet to capture on camera in a non-blurry shot) she is a bazillion times cuter. I’m in love basically. Luckily my husband understands how my love for my daughter usurps my love for him, by a fraction of a millimeter. And luckily I understand how he might feel the same concerning her and me. I knew parenthood would be good, but I wasn’t ready to fall completely, overwhelming in love more than I ever have before. The feeling is miraculous.

Still waiting. My mom arrives tonight. The hubby is looking forward to having her here so he doesn’t feel guilty leaving the house for short periods of time. We’re both anxious, excited and all the rest.

My doc’s office is great. Great people, fully competent, but they jotted down my due date wrong, or at least changed their minds somewhere down the road and didn’t tell me. They have written down that the baby was due yesterday, but originally they told me she is due this coming Tuesday. I think it must be easy to think an 8 looks like a 3 and write it down wrong. There was a number written incorrectly from my first visit as well (about my weight… making me lighter) which normally wouldn’t have bothered me, but I felt it was important to be accurate for the baby’s sake. Thankfully my doc believed me and corrected it (the nurse practitioner sort of looked at me cross-eyed when I pointed it out… as if I was loony for wanting the chart to say I weighed more...)

So, if the lil girl doesn’t come on her own, We are pretty sure we are going to induce. Part of me is leery. There are risks associated with inducing birth. We took the 5 week childbirth preparedness class and saw all of the videos (some very frightening when you’re preggers) and read all of the literature. And I thought then that I’d never induce. No way. But… now that I’m as big as a couple of houses and there are loads and loads of pressure in the pelvis area and some days I just feel ready to get that pressure off of my hips and lower belly, well inducing doesn’t sound so bad. It sounds pretty good.

Time is going to tell. But either way, by next week our bundle of joy should be here in my arms instead of in my belly. Woot!