I was talking to a friend today and called my little Avery, Olivia.
I know she probably doesn't get this sense from me, but I consider her, mine, in a way. I know she is not, there are so many others that lay claim over her far ahead of me. She is a daughter. She is my brother's wife. She has many friends. My mother loves her as her own. But, I think of her often especially as she is about to enter my world. Where did I read recently that having children is like dying and being reborn. I think it was a fluff piece in Time Magazine over breakfast this morning. But, there is nothing fluffy about childbirth or the after-rearing for that matter. There is something about having children that changes you forever and ever. It is like dying, and there is a rebirth.
I took this photo of her in what will soon feel like moments before her firstborn's birth, though she is still, this very moment pregnant. Three days overdue. Overdue: that time that stands still and yet cannot rest.
I have three sisters and they have, between them, birthed 9 children and I have not been there for a single one of those births. To my credit I was pushing out my own four during most of those years. But, now I am here and can "be there" for this birth. I can come with flowers and felicitations, unsolicited advice, and offers to babysit and hopefully, another mother face to cry at, when the time so calls for such a thing.
I love you Olivia and wait with baited breath for you to be birthed into my world.