This post was written the first week of February 2014:
I was never the little girl who pretended to be the mommy to all her dolls. I don't think I really even had dolls. I didn't play "house" very often, but when I did I was often cast as the dad (or the dog). As I got older I babysat a lot because it was easy and for some reason parents trusted me with their spawn, but I never oooh-ed and awww-ed over babies or cared about holding them. (I still don't, actually).
After Skylar and I got married, we immediately moved up to Utah so I could finish my degree. We were surrounded by people our age, in similar roles in life, doing similar things as us. But one difference was that either they were having kids or they were pining away for their future children. But not me. I knew one day I'd have children and I'd most likely be a stay at home mom. I even knew that was what I was made for and I'd probably be decent at it (even though I knew there would be plenty of times I'd feel like I was doing it all wrong) and I was perfectly ok with it. Not an ounce of remorse in the decision I had already made for myself years in advance. But I felt no urgency in getting there.
Just a few months after our wedding, I had a dream about a baby girl. She was probably about 6 months old, in a little dress, sitting on the ground. She turned and looked at me in the dream. And that was it. I woke up thinking that was a strange dream to have and went about my day. A couple months later I had another dream about a little girl. Nothing elaborate in the dream, just an image of a baby girl. This continued to happen periodically for the next few years. I never felt like this girl was telling us she was waiting for us or to hurry up and get her here; it was more like a friendly hello. I figured once we started having kids we'd probably have a girl at some point, but that was about it.
While in India a couple summers ago, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the women of that place. They were strong and they loved their children. I most enjoyed watching mothers and daughters on the buses as we traveled to and from the slums every week. To most speculators, it probably just looked like every other mother and daughter traveling home together after a long day at work and school. But I loved looking for the little displays of love between them. Simple things like a mother brushing back the hair that had fallen across her daughter's cheek as she rested her sleepy head on her mother's shoulder. These were their mothers' girls. And they loved them.
As soon as I got pregnant, I felt like this was it. Our girl was coming to us first. Truth be told, Skylar and I were hoping for a boy (mostly just because we're the younger ones in our families so we rarely get to be first at anything - and producing the first grandson to carry on the Buras name would be pretty sweet), but I knew she was coming. My girl. At first the thought scared me a little. Girls can be so emotional and dramatic. Their feelings of self-worth can be swayed so easily by others and that's hard to protect as they get older. But no matter, because my girl was coming and she would be loved fiercely.
We had our first ultrasound last week and the little wiggle worm wouldn't let the tech get a decent look at the goods, but I knew.
One of my favorite things about that ultrasound was when the tech was making sure the organs looked good and she spent a few minutes looking at the heart. She was impressed with our babe and said, "The heart looks perfect. Most of the time babies tend to hide their heart, but not yours. Your baby is showing it off." I feel like that's a good sign for who this little person will grow up to be.
Skylar wants to get another ultrasound next month to confirm the gender because he doesn't want to be surprised. But I already know. I've known for years. It's her in there. My girl.
I was never the little girl who pretended to be the mommy to all her dolls. I don't think I really even had dolls. I didn't play "house" very often, but when I did I was often cast as the dad (or the dog). As I got older I babysat a lot because it was easy and for some reason parents trusted me with their spawn, but I never oooh-ed and awww-ed over babies or cared about holding them. (I still don't, actually).
After Skylar and I got married, we immediately moved up to Utah so I could finish my degree. We were surrounded by people our age, in similar roles in life, doing similar things as us. But one difference was that either they were having kids or they were pining away for their future children. But not me. I knew one day I'd have children and I'd most likely be a stay at home mom. I even knew that was what I was made for and I'd probably be decent at it (even though I knew there would be plenty of times I'd feel like I was doing it all wrong) and I was perfectly ok with it. Not an ounce of remorse in the decision I had already made for myself years in advance. But I felt no urgency in getting there.
Just a few months after our wedding, I had a dream about a baby girl. She was probably about 6 months old, in a little dress, sitting on the ground. She turned and looked at me in the dream. And that was it. I woke up thinking that was a strange dream to have and went about my day. A couple months later I had another dream about a little girl. Nothing elaborate in the dream, just an image of a baby girl. This continued to happen periodically for the next few years. I never felt like this girl was telling us she was waiting for us or to hurry up and get her here; it was more like a friendly hello. I figured once we started having kids we'd probably have a girl at some point, but that was about it.
While in India a couple summers ago, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the women of that place. They were strong and they loved their children. I most enjoyed watching mothers and daughters on the buses as we traveled to and from the slums every week. To most speculators, it probably just looked like every other mother and daughter traveling home together after a long day at work and school. But I loved looking for the little displays of love between them. Simple things like a mother brushing back the hair that had fallen across her daughter's cheek as she rested her sleepy head on her mother's shoulder. These were their mothers' girls. And they loved them.
As soon as I got pregnant, I felt like this was it. Our girl was coming to us first. Truth be told, Skylar and I were hoping for a boy (mostly just because we're the younger ones in our families so we rarely get to be first at anything - and producing the first grandson to carry on the Buras name would be pretty sweet), but I knew she was coming. My girl. At first the thought scared me a little. Girls can be so emotional and dramatic. Their feelings of self-worth can be swayed so easily by others and that's hard to protect as they get older. But no matter, because my girl was coming and she would be loved fiercely.
We had our first ultrasound last week and the little wiggle worm wouldn't let the tech get a decent look at the goods, but I knew.
One of my favorite things about that ultrasound was when the tech was making sure the organs looked good and she spent a few minutes looking at the heart. She was impressed with our babe and said, "The heart looks perfect. Most of the time babies tend to hide their heart, but not yours. Your baby is showing it off." I feel like that's a good sign for who this little person will grow up to be.
Skylar wants to get another ultrasound next month to confirm the gender because he doesn't want to be surprised. But I already know. I've known for years. It's her in there. My girl.
(I must say, I think this baby is shaping up to have a pretty cute nose.)
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