One year ago this evening, WonderSpouse and I were getting all giddy, heating the rice packs and buckling down for hard labor, after a trip to Five Guys and a call to Debi the super midwife. :O) (There's nothing quite as exciting and magical as a birth space with candles lit, bed made, birth kit all laid out, with the smell of rice socks in the air and a baby on the way out. There's such a gorgeous energy about it, knowing something breathtaking is about to take place, and so many hearts being focused on a welcome at once)
I'd spent a better part of the afternoon with my preggo arse in the air in hopes of dislodging my asynclitic baby's pumpkin head and getting her in a better position on my cervix (per suggestion of my amazing friend Allison, whom, if she's reading this, should know once again that she was my angel that day), and then walking around a walking trail with my family. There were robins out that day, and the cherry and pear trees were blooming.
We had no clue if Eva was a boy or girl, no idea what she'd be like, no idea how her birth would go, and no inkling what we'd name her. She was a big, beautiful question mark in our hearts, and we were waiting with bated breath for her first puckered-faced cry to bring our hearts the answer.
After a few seemingly short hours, a good deal of hot water in a birth pool, some growling and a few F-bombs, there she was, just round cheeked and beautiful and staring at me. She was, and is, an amazing-hearted little girl. Strongwilled and laid-back, independent and a snuggle monster, strong and tender, trusting and sincere...she's my precious little third woman child. I thank God every day for her safe passage and health on that day, and never take it for granted. Her mommy would very much like to convince her to live with me forever. She's my pickle sandwich, and I'm so very proud of her!