A birthday

Tomorrow is my daughter's third birthday. In some ways I can't believe it has been three years already. But I cannot really remember life without her. My biggest fear when I was expecting a second child was that I would not love it like I loved my son. I wondered if there was that much room in a person's heart. Mine was pretty full already. The night I went into labor(well, I thought I was), I was more anxious about this than actually having a baby. I had my house in order, and the dr. told me to go ahead and go in, and if my labor stopped, I could be induced in the morning. We took the boy to his grandparent's and began the long journey to the hospital. Once they got me hydrated my labor stopped. The midwife wasn't thrilled about inducing me, as she was sure it would take at least two days. (I'm glad she isn't at the practice anymore, her bedside manner was so different from all the other midwives). But I was in so much pain and discomfort I told her I was staying. They started my induction the next morning. Six hours later, much to her surprise, but not to mine, E. was born. I seem to have a knack of delivering at the nurse's shift change. The same thing happened when P. was born. With him my nurse stayed late, she had been with me all day and wanted to see the baby. E.'s birth was somehow less peaceful than P.'s . I seem to remember more people in the room. But it was easy. She had a little difficulty breathing, she came too fast to expel all the gunk in her lungs and nose. But she recovered quickly, and when they placed her in my arms again, I knew that once again, I was helplessly in love.

Yes, she was as big as she looked. 8lbs 14 oz. And she was hungry. She is still a big girl. She only weighs a few pounds less than her brother. In so many ways she takes after me. I am constantly told how much she looks like me. Like most three year olds, she is alternately delightful and irritating. I think it will do her good to have some younger siblings. I try not to spoil her, but she is so beautiful and can be so delightful, it is difficult. So here is a short pictoral history of my girl.

She doesn't like to have her picture taken much anymore. Like her mother, her moods are diverse and quickly change throughout the day. Last night as I tried to get everyone through brushing their teeth, splitcat stuck his head in the door and asked if she was PMSing. Drama has become her middle name. But, again like her mother, she is happiest when left alone to daydream and play in her own little world. I am really looking forward to knowing her as she grows. I hope that one day when she no longer needs the care of a mother, she will find she has a friend.