>My mom warned me that because I live near Jeff’s family and none of my own I would constantly hear how much Olive looks like him. She was right, of course… but now others have jumped on the bandwagon. This adorable couple we met at a friend’s birthday party while I was pregnant saw me & Olive at yet another birthday party a week or so ago, and the very first thing the woman, Ebony, said was “Oh my gosh you look just like your daddy!” Luckily she followed it with a very insightful statement – “Your mommy probably doesn’t like to hear that since she worked so hard to get you here!”
So, fast forward to yesterday afternoon at my midwife’s office, where she and the cute gal she’s training exclaimed over how much Olive looks like… me! I can’t explain the relief that washed over me. I mean, this is ridiculous – OBVIOUSLY she’s mine. I pushed her out – I don’t really need her to look like me to be sure who she belongs to. And obviously I’m pretty fond of my hubby’s visage, so it actually is marvelous how she does look like him (even has some of his expressions!). And with as often as I look in the mirror and wish I looked differently (we’re working on this), why would I want her to look like me? But I do, and there’s the rub.
Maybe it makes me feel better about how I look if she’s super cute and gorgeous and she looks like me. Maybe what Ebony said, that I worked hard and would like some recognition, is part of the truth. What I really think, though, is that that old cliche-but-true adage that to have a child is to forever have your heart walking (or in this case, being carried) around outside your body is all too much reality, and since she is the complete embodiment of my heart, an extension of myself, I really want her to bear some resemblance to me. AND to Jeffery.
But mostly to me .