6...

The birth of a child is one of those turning points in life, where, after it happens, you can barely remember who you were before.

What did I do with my time? Sleep? Read? Dream about you?

On a warm, blue-skied April day, my little Pink began her journey. I sat, bewildered and ecstatic on the bathroom floor, clutching the little stick that had just reimaged my life. My singular existence was now two and my hands fluttered in hesitation above where her heart was just beginning to beat. I didn't know her or even that "her" was the correct label, but I "knew" her. She was already part of me.

For the next nine months I enclosed myself in a bubble wrap existence and...waited. Most of the time I was terrified. Every ache and pain sent terror coursing through my heart. Every hair on my head stood at attention, waiting for my body to fail me. I have never been that strong...how can I do this? There was no choice, my ever-growing body took the lead and I spent countless hours inspecting my newfound curves. Always sporting a rather tomboyish figure, I had developed the chest of a porn star and was loving every notch on the bra that had to be let out.

Before long, my moon of a midsection eclipsed my scandalous ta-tas and the sexy glow was replaced by a penguin's waddle. My rear-end was a sight to behold and, once, after catching a glimpse in some unfortunate lighting, I was reduced to tears trying to find myself somewhere in all that extra body. Where are you Girl? I promise to never have sex again if you come back.

Our house was a mess of blankets and onesies and pumps and pillows and whatthehellisadiapergenie?! And wherethehellismybellybutton?! I was huge. I hurt. I could barely walk and my head looked as pregnant as my belly...and I was a week late....over Christmas. And then...a slice of pain rocketed across my abdomen and I new she was on her way.

For the next eighteen hours I paced and breathed and screamed and swore. It was all ice chips and epidural and dialation and pretty much what you see in the movies, where the husband is green and the mother of the new mother is screaming...SHE NEEDS MORE PAIN MEDS NOW! And then...my little lady...in true Pink fashion decided to put the brakes on her impending delivery. I am convinced she was applying lipstick and doing a few squats in preparation for her grand entrance. The rest is a blur of not enough time...gotta get her out...sign this paper....don't worry....don't worry...

And I was given...the scar that changed my life. And also...the title I treasure most...Mom.

Her eyes were saucers. Looking at me. She knew me too and I was gone. Gone for good. While I was gazing at her, that old Girl slipped out the side door into the wintry night. And in her place she left...this new girl. This mom and this Pink. And she let me...watch my soul stand outside my body.

Today Pink is six and someday, when she reads this she will know how very much I love her and how...once...we were one Girl.