Stella

She was born two days after Christmas, a mere 6 hours after the contractions started. It was the kind of experience every pregnant woman prays they have as they lie awake, sleepless and worrying, night after night. The epidural did not stop my labor, and she popped out fresh and plump and slick, like a little edamame from it’s shell. 8lbs 9oz. There were no concerns, no complications. I was able to hold her immediately, pink and soft, squelching and squirming against my stomach. 18 hours later I took her home. She did not scream in the car; she did not refuse to be put down. All was right in the world.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had my Stella been born before her sister Natalie. Would she be the same? Are the huge differences in their personalities and temperament a function of their birth order, the hormonal soup in which they marinated for the first 9 months? Perhaps it is just pure luck that I got a happy easy baby this time. I do not believe in God or fate, and I am not sure my karma points were high enough to cash in for the prize that I won in the lotto that December. Whatever the reason, she is here, and I am grateful.