In a routine visit to my midwife the week before, I had discovered to my amazement that my baby had done a complete 180 and was now sitting in a breach position inside my belly. Thinking back, she had been super-active that week, so I really shouldn't have been surprised. I think at that point nothing would have surprised me. I had suffered with Hyperemisis Gravidarum throughout my pregnancy, so it hadn't exactly been a cake-walk. I had spent four months off work, losing kilo after kilo, and at times wondering if someone had made a mistake - I wasn't actually pregnant, I was dying. At times it definitely felt like I was. But I had made it past all of that, and finally started gaining weight again at 6 months pregnant - yay! I finally looked pregnant! So, after all that, when I was told that my baby was breach and that I would have to come in on my due date to have a c-section, I took it all in my stride. Nothing else with this pregnancy had gone to plan, so why should the birth be any different? Those around me said "Oh, you must be disappointed to not be having a natural birth.". Wrong again. At that point, all I cared about was having a happy, healthy baby. How the baby got into this world was just a minor detail.
On Monday, 25 September 2000, hubby and I arrived at Simpsons Maternity Hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland, two bundles of nervous energy. I remember being asked to keep still as the epidural/spinal block was injected - I was so excited, I was shaking. Hubby went away to don surgical scrubs for his entry into the delivery room. When he came back, he had squeezed his size Large self into a size Medium pair of surgical trousers and top, with fetching hat. Apparently, that was the only size left. He was afraid when he sat down he would split his trousers. Of course, I was oblivious.
At 11.50am, our 8lb 4oz bundle of joy was finally delivered. She was born with one leg stretched up in front of her face and the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. She cried almost immediately and I remember being so relieved. As they lay her down beside me, the first thing I noticed was her thick shock of shaggy black hair. That explained the heartburn.
Up until that point, we had not agreed on a name - I wanted Georgia, but hubby was still not convinced. When the doctor settled a swaddled up bundle of baby girl into my hubby's arms and asked him what her name was, he immediately said "Georgia". We fell in love with her from that first moment.
As the months flew by, the shock of dark hair was replaced by downy blonde locks, which grew to curl around her ears and then down her back. She was cheeky, fun, loving and fond of the colour purple and her stuffed bear, Wah-Wah. When Cameron was born 3 and a half years later, it took her a few days to get used to the idea.
"This is Cameron - he's your baby brother." we said.
She looked him over dubiously, finally frowning up at us in all her three and a half year old seriousness.
"I wanted a puppy."
From dubious beginnings, she went on to show extreme love and patience. She loved him as if he were one of her dolls, tucking him in and watching over him when he slept, playing with him when he was awake. She was always attentive and very loyal.
Tomorrow, she turns thirteen. Our baby girl will be a teenager. Where did the time go? Tonight, we went out to dinner to celebrate, and I found myself looking at her with new eyes. She is beautiful, she is funny, she is sassy and she is ours. We are so blessed.
I'm going to try to hang onto that as we traverse the teenage years together. Wish us luck...
|12th Birthday - 25 September 2012|