Three years ago yesterday I watched my growing baby dance and flip around inside the little nest inside me for yet another ultrasound. Ultrasounds were not new to me or my unborn child as the impatient little thing tried its hardest to take a running start into this world before I was even twelve weeks along.
The baby hated these ultrasounds, even when it was nothing but the size of a small jelly bean — which is exactly what I called it. When my little jelly bean could, it would edge away from the probe used in transvaginal ultrasounds. My little bean would squirm and wriggle and flip its way out of the way of the transducer during pelvic ultrasounds. I wondered how the rest of the pregnancy would be like once room in the nest would begin to run out — this baby definitely liked its space!
And this day was no different. The technician had a rough time measuring itty bitty kidneys and a teeny tiny heart. I laughed at the naughtiness displayed on screen and finally put my hand on my belly, “Hey! You settle down in there! We need to find out if you are going to be a pink jelly bean or a blue one!” And just like that, the technician caught this image:
My baby girl’s hand pressed up near mine. A beautiful little hand with five beautiful little fingers reaching out to the world. A little girl’s hand that hasn’t been still since.
I mentioned to the technician that it was International Women’s Day as she let me watch my baby girl play inside her home inside me. She remarked to me that my little girl was by far the most active baby she has ever had to “film” and I laughed. “You should feel it from my end,” I told her.
I was thrilled to celebrate International Women’s Day with my precious growing daughter — with every kick and turn, jump and wiggle, I could foresee the life she had in the future. This little one was going to be a fighter and assertive of what she wants. This is the girl that would ask questions and not be afraid to express herself. If anyone would be a part of the world’s change, it will be her.
And now, my darling little jelly bean — my Miss Bean — will soon be three years old. She finally got what she wanted and arrived a month early. She gave the NICU nurses a run for their money by constantly pulling out her feeding tubes. She is my dragon baby who will tear up when she is reprimanded or if she thinks she has made you sad, but she will say “No!” without remorse. And say it often. Yes, this little Bean of mine, she will be there front and center demanding equal pay for equal work and health care reform.
That is her future. Right now, I hope to get her potty trained and to stop coloring on the walls.
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