Happy Feet

I am still finding it hard to believe that I gave birth to the baby playing in the next room. I started this blog before I had her, and now she is real. I never could have dreamed up a more wonderful baby. I don't think she looks too much like me. She doesn't have my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my hair, or my facial shape. I feel like I have a good idea what her donor must look like. Her social security card and birth certificate haven't come yet, and occasionally I worry about not having identification for her.

I have bizarre thoughts, like someone will ask me to prove I birthed her. I imagine a stern man from the Department of Parental Security demanding evidence. "Look," I will say desperately while quickly pulling off my shoes and socks, "we have identical toes."