my sweet baby girl
so fiercely independent
the love of my life
So we've covered what I was doing this time last year. But this time three years ago, I was as big as a house. A hot, un-air-conditioned house, staggering around the block, trying to kick-start labor.
I spent the last few months of my pregnancy barely able to walk. Stupid hyper mobile joints and pubic symphysis jacked-up-ed-ness. I shuffled around like a grumbling old lady. I even had to give in to all things decent and drive around Target in one of those carts that beeps when you back up.
I stayed at 4 cm dilated – just walking around – for almost two weeks. I thought she might never be born. I would just be pregnant forever, ambling and groaning around my super-heated, summer sun-soaked cul-de-sac, never actually going into labor, a kind of Dante's inferno for impatient pregnant women.
But I woke up at 6:30am on July 1st – the morning of my due date – having regular contractions. They did their thing, picking up speed and intensity until we headed for the hopsital at about 10am. By 10:30 I was checked into labor and delivery, munching on ice chips, chatting with my belly and joking with the nurses.
By 12:30 I was in the "uh-oh, I really am going to have to push this baby out" mode.
By 1:45 I agreed to the epidural.
And then, miraculously, wonderfully, easily… at 2:32pm she was born. 8 lbs 11 oz, with about seven of those pounds squarely in her cheeks. She stared at me with huge eyes, nursed immediately, and we were in love. Less than 24 hours later, we were home.
It was a quick, simple, wonderful birth. It happened so fast – one minute pregnant, one minute holding her in my arms.
How was that three years ago? It feels like forever ago, and one second ago. She's gone from a tiny baby girl who loved Rob Zombie and constant nursing, to an action-packed kid who loves Arcade Fire and guacamole. How did that happen?!
My sweet, sweet Georgia Kady.
Happy birthday, baby girl.