Little Livi

I'm not surprised that Little Livi is a mover and a shaker, my tummy roiling as she flips over every five minutes. It doesn't shock me that she does high kicks when people around me applaud. I hear that means she's a diva and that's ok.

It is the size of her head that has me concerned.

My mother in law tried to allay my fears as I recapped our earlier visit to the specialist.

"Her head is measuring two weeks farther along than her body. I don't know how I feel about this."

"Babies grow into their heads. Don't worry. I'm sure everything is fine."

"No, you don't understand. My vagina isn't sure how it feels about this."

Between fits of laughter she wheezed, "Your vagina will be fine too."

Mr. J was proud when the tech announced that our daughter has a very large noggin, "She takes after me. It is filled with her big brain. It is my superior genetics."

I shook my head, "No, I was born with an exceptionally large head. I didn't grow into it until I was five." I thought of the picture my aunt showed me where my cousin and I were sleeping on her living room floor, my head the size of his entire chest cavity.

Mr. J scanned the screen, "What about her feet? Can you see anything?"

The tech swiveled and moved, looking for her little phalanges while I rolled my eyes, "You know she's going to get my toes. God, I hope she gets my toes."

"Your hand feet? I can't raise a child like that."

"You have Flintstone feet. She's going to want to wear heels at some point."

I decided that when her daddy offers to shave down her long toes, a sure sign of intelligence, I will coach her to say, very sweetly, But, daddy. The boys at school like them. I can imagine him falling into himself, defeated as she skips away and he looks for the bottom of a bottle of scotch. I hope he starts muttering at some point, something about those walkin' talkin' sacks of hormones my daddy was always mentioning.

Mr. J started laughing the other night as I forced him to rub my feet. He was doing a half-assed job, staring blankly at the TV while I glared at him. He suddenly stopped.

"Ok, finished." He flung my foot toward me.

I wiggled it back into his face, "Nope. You did it for longer last time."

"Oh God. This is going to be the way it is, isn't it? I'm going to have two of you. I can just see it now. I'll rub her back, 'But, daddy. You did it for longer last time.' He sighed, a big smile on his face as he came to realize that his two girls were a lot to take on and more than he'd ever dreamed he would in this lifetime.

It feels good to think about these little things, little trivial things that make us smile until my cheeks hurt and my teeth are dry. I love complaining that she woke me up because she's there to wake me up. I love that my body, the body that has failed me time after time, is capable of giving her four heart chambers, the little brainy things the specialist looks for and I love that she floats around my insides, claiming them as hers for now.

I love that she's feisty.

I love that she gets hiccups.

I love that she is half of me and half of him and all of everything we have always wanted.