Mama Bear

I can’t wait to meet this precious baby with her impatient kicks. I’ve gathered that she doesn’t like it when I sit in one place for too long (i.e. more than half an hour). She starts dancing and pushing and responds immediately when I start doing something more active or noisy.

I can’t wait to see her face, stare at her tiny features, kiss her cheeks, nose, forehead and marvel at her tiny hands and feet. I’m so selfishly in love with her already that I’m having a hard time imagining sharing her with anyone else.

She is mine, says the Mama Bear inside.

But I’m going to want some sleep in the beginning, says that rational, realistic side that so rarely makes an appearance.

She is MINE, answers the Mama Bear.

So I may have some trouble with sharing the baby love at first.

But when she turns two or three and that stubborn part of husband and I – that she will undoubtedly inherit as we both come from strong-willed people – starts to really rear its ugly head in our little mini-me, I’m sure I’ll be more than happy to share.


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