hello, my baby.

Last week, we woke up early one morning and went to the hospital to see our baby. We sat next to each other in a softly lit room, as the ultrasound technician probed my swelling belly. And then. Our baby appeared on the screen. Eyes, ears, arms, legs, hands, feet, beating heart. And a ski slope nose.

Oh, my.

We sat quietly, with the new realization settling in all around us that there is a little person on the other side of the next twenty weeks. A little person who is already created and defined, a little person who will belong to us forever, a little person who already has a very certain ski slope nose.

And, along the way, we also discovered that this little person is a girl.

A girl. This seems right. In my mind, it was already settled that this first one was a girl. In a very sure way, it never crossed my mind that this baby was not a girl. No...this baby was always going to be a girl.

And my first thought when this was confirmed was not: I'm having a girl, but instead: I have a daughter. She will be a little girl who will grow up to be a woman. And all the intimacies and complexities of being a mother to a daughter are mine to treasure and stumble through.

Suddenly, it all seems so real. Now, we call the baby she/her, instead of it, and we roll through a list of names, all of which we love, but only some of which seem right for this particular little girl. Which is funny, because we haven't even met her yet. But some names feel more right for her, our first one, who will be sweet and spunky and introspective. We know she will be all of these things. And only certain names are right for this kind of little girl.

I am struck by how particular and defined this baby girl already is. How her cells have formed into a body that is all hers. How her mind is already developed. How her very person is already pre-set in so many ways.

We are amazed.

The day after our ultrasound, Ben sent me this note: I am already in love with our little girl.

And I know exactly how he feels.