When I found out I was pregnant I was ecstatic. I would walk around beaming like an idiot for what appeared to others to be no good reason. It was my (and my husband's) little secret for the first three months. Once we began sharing the news, people would ask if I wanted a boy or a girl. Obligingly I would respond, "as long as it's healthy it doesn't matter to me." But secretly I wanted a girl. I wanted a "mini me." A little pink thing in my spitting image. I don't know why, I guess it's human nature to want to pass on one's legacy of sorts. When we had the all-determining ultrasound and found out that we were indeed having a girl, I pretty much skipped through the parking lot to the car. It must have looked funny to see a pregnant woman skipping across the parking lot now that I think about it. I spent the next 5 months imagining my daughter. Of course she would look exactly like me. And when she would get bigger she would walk and talk like me too. People would look at her and then back at me and smile and say, "she sure is a little you!"
After a grueling 22 hour labor with 4 failed attempts to alleviate my pain, my daughter finally entered the world. To my surprise, I did not recognize her at all. I fell in love with her instantly and knew she was my baby, but I kept searching her tiny face for signs of my own to no avail. I had no idea who this baby looked like. Later that night, it dawned on me. I said to my husband, "I think she looks like you." He seemed to think this was an obvious statement. "I think so too," he said, which was nicer than, "Duh."
Over the next few days as we received our first visitors, everyone had an opinion as to who Sophie resembled. The majority said my husband. I was never disappointed, as I consider my husband quite cute, but I couldn't get over my surprise that she wasn't a little me.
One day I noticed something. It was just like out of that scene in "Beaches" when Victoria says to Hillary, "We have the same hands." Hillary looks at her daughter's little hands and says, "You're right. We do. We have exactly the same hands." I was filled with joy to realize that Sophie and I were indeed identical hand twins (2 points for getting this reference)! And what's more, her hands are often something that people notice about her, because she has long, slender fingers. And when people observe this, I quickly show them my own hand and smile.
Now Sophie is two months old and there is more than just our hands that we share. Every now and then I'll catch a facial expression that I know is my own (often because I am making the same one at the same time). We also sleep the same way- curled up with our hands on our faces. But the most striking resemblance is her temperament. This is one high maintenance little lady. If she is not 100% comfortable or content, she will let you know. Unlike my husband, who could be stranded on a desert island with no other people or possessions and still be content, Sophie and I like things "just so."
When I was a child and I would misbehave, my father would often look defeated, shaking his head and grumbling, "Payback, this is my payback..." Now that I am a parent I completely understand what he meant. I think about all of the times I have been a cranky, moody perfectionist. And on those days that it takes me two hours of pleading to get Sophie fed, dressed, in her car seat, and out of the house, I look at my "mini me," shake my head and grumble, "payback."
