Then of course there was that foggy, hazy moment when I heard a voice say "A girl" and felt a soft, small cheek pressed against mine. Finally, we knew.
But the interesting thing is after three months I feel like I've both known my daughter my whole life and have absolutely no idea who she is. We waited nine months to know the gender. Now we wait to know what color eyes she will have. What color hair. Curly or straight. Where on earth did that red color come from? We wait to find out if she'll be loud or quiet. Will she be happy or serious or determined. Will she be the kind of person that accepts the world or insists things bend to her?
Is she going to like the color pink as much as I do?
And of course there are the unhappy wonderings of whether she has inherited my demons or will she create her own? What will she struggle with? What will be easy for her? What questions will she ask that I won't be able to answer? And will she forgive me for not knowing? For making my own mistakes as a mother?
The other day a friend looked at her and asked who she looked like. I couldn't say. Sometimes she's the spitting image of her Dad. Sometimes it's like I'm looking in the mirror. But often it's like looking at someone who is terribly familiar - but who I've never seen before.