And Just Like That, She's Five

I remember the moment when I knew she was coming.

On January 12, 2013, we'd spent the afternoon at our Goddaughter's birthday party.  People kept asking when the baby was coming, to which I'd reply "tomorrow!"  I was scheduled to be induced bright and early the following morning.

Very late that night, I got up to use the bathroom.  I laid back in bed, but couldn't fall back to sleep.  I was obviously anxious, nervous, excited, scared, and all of the emotions one feels when they're about to give birth.  As I lay there, willing myself to sleep just a little longer, I felt a pop.

I thought about how funny it would be if that were my water breaking.  I didn't really know what that would feel like, since I was in the throes of intense contractions when my water broke with Gabe.  I wasn't having any contractions, I didn't feel weird, I'd just felt a pop.  The more I wondered about it, the more I thought that perhaps that's exactly what it had been.

I oh so carefully sat up, and walked to my bathroom with my thighs glued together, only moving my legs below the knees.  I can only imagine how ridiculous I looked, trying so hard to save my bedroom carpet from a mess that no one would ever want to clean up.

I made it to the bathroom. still wondering if it could be, and stood straight up over a small bathroom rug.

Definitely broken water.

I woke J up and told him what had happened.  He had been planning to wake up early and shower before we headed to the hospital the next morning, and worried that his plan had been shot.

"Go ahead and take a shower!" I told him.  "I'm going to curl my hair before we leave."  Yes, I curled my hair so as to not look like death in any post-baby photographs.  I wasn't having any contractions yet.  I was totally easy breezy about the situation.

I called the doctor and told her what had happened.  "Pop and a gush?" she asked.  "Pop and a gush," I replied.  A neighbor arrived to stay with Gabe until J's mom could get there, and off we went to the hospital.

When we arrived, I told the nurse to go ahead and get the ball rolling for the epidural.  I knew what to expect.  Labor got super hard, super fast.  The wonderful, sweet doctor who had her nice, neat induction plan thrown out the window by my impatient baby got me settled in then went home for a rest.  Labor got faster.

I will never forget the nurse, upon realizing that the baby was coming NOW, yelling out into the hall.  "Will somebody call Dr. Bonpain and tell her to STEP ON THE GAS??"

And just like that, Margot was here.  She had the most perfect bowed lips and, I kid you not, gorgeous highlights in her full head of hair.

I simply cannot fathom that all of this happened five years ago.

I look back on her birth and think about how she just couldn't follow the plan and wait for the next morning when I was to be induced.  She did it her own way.  This is just so indicitive of her personality.

Margot does was she wants, and doesn't care what anyone else thinks about it.  I don't even necessarily mean this is a bad way.  It's not like she's some terror who bucks authority and constantly causes trouble.  I used to worry that she would be exactly that, but she has proven me wrong.  She's good and kind, and almost always does the right thing.

But she's not out to impress you.  She does what makes her happy, and if that happens to make you happy as well, that's just gravy.  She's brutally honest, and will tell it to you exactly as it is.  She is positively the most self-aware being that I've ever known, able to pinpoint how she's feeling and why and what she should do about it.

Basically, Margot is what I want to be when I grow up.

My goals are to only do the things that make me happy.  To not be such a "yes girl."  To stop worrying so much about what other people think.  I've been making some progress with this, and think that I might just have it down by the time I turn 40 in a couple of years.


How wonderful for Margot that she's already got it.


Margot is the dark horse of the family.  You didn't see her coming, but here she is, coming out ahead.  And I predict big things for her future. 

Margot, my strong, beautiful, smart and wonderful daughter, I couldn't possibly love you more.