Baby girl musings

Our family found out the sex of our first grandchild a few days ago. Baby Dazz is a sweet, baby girl and if anything like her mom and most likely her dad, she will be full of spunk, stubborn and the best thing they could ever receive into their lives.

I of course have been thinking back to the time I was pregnant for the first time, carrying Baby Dazz’s mom and counting the days until I could meet her for the first time. Way back then, we chose not to find out the sex of the baby and so had to wait until she made her appearance to hear, “It’s a girl!” I had a secret hunch all along though that I was having a girl. Couldn’t tell you why, but something inside me just knew.

I have told this story to Baby Dazz’s mom but the most amazing moment of her birth came when she was placed into my arms and as I spoke to her she turned and looked directly at me. That was the most incredible moment of my life and I fell in love with my first daughter in an instant.

I can only imagine the moments like this both mom and dad will have when Baby Dazz is here. Learning to parent, learning to let go, learning that worry and fear will follow them for years, learning that your baby will always be your baby even when they are adults and in the midst of becoming parents themselves.

I used to teach childbirth education classes and work as a doula or labor support person before I went back into dentistry. Baby Dazz’s parents asked me to be their doula. That might sound rather odd, the mom of the mom taking the role of doula for her own granddaughters birth. Being a doula is a privileged service that I always felt honored to give to any couple who needed my support. I am doubly honored and really rather humbled that mom and dad asked this of me. I think the birth of this first grandchild will hold special meaning because of their request, over and above the fact that Baby Dazz is my first grandchild. To be asked to support a woman, any woman in labor is a gift. It will mean so much more because it is my daughter and granddaughter who I will help birth.

Mom is heading through week 20 and in a few short months we will welcome Baby girl Dazz. I can hardly wait.

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Time, just a little more time…and muffin tops.

I could start this post with a number of cliché’s regarding time, like “time is fleeting” or “time waits for no (wo)man” but I truly don’t have the time.

I hate that I have neglected my blog(s). I am writing this post during my early morning breakfast-plus-wait-for-my-hair-to-dry 10 minutes of free time. Truly, I have started, edited, stopped and re-written these last few sentences simply because I am distracted at the moment, which means there will be nothing substantive written here today. The cat is clamoring at me for attention, I should be doing some homework, I keep looking at the clock, but oh—I miss my blog, sigh 😦

So here’s a short and oh so truly non-informative and who the hell cares topic for today: muffin tops.

I have this t-shirt that is a lovely mix of olive/spring/leaf green. I bought it for the color because it just shouted springtime in the PNW to me from the rack at Kohl’s. My computer desk sits directly next to a window. At this early 6AM writing, I can see my reflection in the window, just like a mirror because it’s still very dark outside.

I have now dubbed this fantastic shirt my muffin top shirt. I am 52, menopausal, not skinny but not really overweight; just of unequal distribution of the weight I have, meaning: around my middle, and this wonderful shirt shows that off perfectly.

Also a perfect illustration of time. Time does bad things to bodies. Time should be ashamed of itself. Time to turn off the computer. Deep sigh.