But, in reflection that makes perfect sense because it is about my little Goose and nothing with her has ever been easy.
Seriously, this is me just 7 months pregnant with her. 7 months? As in I had two more months to go after this? Yeah...
Me as a babe
|Goose as a babe|
|Me as a toddler|
|Goose as a toddler|
Let us pray some of the paternal genes kick in before she turns 13.
|Me as a teen.|
Please stop laughing at me.
Seriously, stop. And don't you dare show that to anyone.
So, Goose got my big ol' noggin along with an uncanny resemblance.
But, that's about where it ends.
On good days, we are like apples and oranges.
On bad days, it is more like oil and vinegar.
Nowadays, most days are good days. But, for a long time they were not good days.
My little Goosey Girl was (is? will always be?) what is often termed as being "feisty" or "strong willed." As an infant, no one else could hold her, change her, bathe her, or for that matter look at her. And when I tried to do those things, I was often met with screams of discontentment. Below is a pictorial collection of her first few months of life...
And sleep? Sleep... sweet Goose didn't need not stinkn' sleep and she was certain neither did I. She finally slept her first full night (i.e. about 8 hours straight compared to getting up between 5-7 times in a 10 hour period) when she was 16 months old. And she was medicated.
*Disclaimer, the medication was a prescription from her pediatrician. It was either that for her or Prozac for me.
Now that I am getting an adequate amount of sleep I sometimes reflect on that time. It is funny what hindsight affords you.
One example, when I was laboring with her (Again, all natural baby! Where's my medal?) maybe I might have screamed some and cussed a little (the Rooster's version may have omitted the words some and a little). And maybe at one point I think I recall saying something along the lines of "No one told me this was going to hurt!"
But, now I realize just how special Goose's birth was to me. Don't get me wrong, Bub's birth was equally "special", however, her birth was different. It taught me more about myself and was a truly rewarding experience. As odd as it may seem, having her gave me the assurance that I was capable of anything.
I am happy to report who she is today is one amazing little person and I am so lucky to be her mother. And that intimate bond we created during her trying infancy, the reassurance I gave her that I was there for her even when the going got tough, has given us a really special relationship.
Or as she would assuredly tell you (you being anyone who she thinks needs to know) in her soft, sweet voice, "I'm Mommy's baby."
I think her birth experience was to prepare me for what was to come during her infancy. I am equally as sure that the challenges we have faced in during her infancy to prepare me for the challenges that are to come.
She and I are still very different, but I am grateful for those differences. I am grateful that she is becoming her own person. I am grateful for how strong of a person that is. I am grateful that she has forced me to be a better mother. Most of all, I am grateful to be MY daughter's mother.