Pseudotherapy

Twenty-seven years ago today, I experienced my finest moment. A project I’d had in the works for nearly a year and had labored on intensely finally came to fruition. Nine months of planning and preparation and 34 hours of sweating and swearing ended with the outraged yell of my newborn daughter.

She was supposed to be a boy. Her father’s family had not seen a female born in 20-someodd years. My obstetrician had predicted a girl baby based on the heartrate, but we knew he was a certifiable quack so we put no stock in his guess. We’d only debated boy names. In fact, I’d been calling my belly bulge Jesse since the third week. The nursery was done in unisex hot-air balloons, but the drawers contained baseball-jersey sleepers and blue booties. The lone girly garment was a sweet rosebud-strewn nightgown wistfully purchased by my sister-in-law. The thought that I might be carrying a girlchild never lingered in our minds.

When my doctor announced, “It’s a great big girl!” we laughed. “Yeah, right!” Then he plopped this HUGE (9 lb. 7 oz.!) squalling infant on my stomach and I saw for myself that he was telling the truth. I said, “Ohhhhh!!!” and started to cry. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how deeply I yearned for a daughter. Admittedly, I was desperately relieved too. I knew how to be the mother of a little girl. Little boys? Not a clue.

She didn’t get a name until the last day of my hospital stay. Her dad and I couldn’t agree. I wanted to name her Anjuli after the heroine in my favorite book, The Far Pavilions. Her father protested (and I quote): “I’m not gonna stand at my door and yell, ‘Anjuli! Dinner’s ready!’ ” May I just say, a stupider objection to a name I’ve never heard. I suggested Tyree, his mother’s maiden name. He said it sounded like a hick name. Lucinda (my mother’s nickname) didn’t suit him, either. We finally compromised on Juliana, with the intention of calling her Juli. At literally the very last minute, I added the middle name Rose, which was the name of the nurse who’d been caring for me and my new baby. She was nearing retirement and a sweeter lady I’ve never known. When I told her I was naming my baby after her, she cried. Never in all her years as an OB nurse, she sniffled, had anyone honored her in that way.

Juliana Rose has been the light of my life since the moment she was born. I’m prouder of her than all my other accomplishments combined. Happy Birthday, Sweetie! I wish you a lifetime of joy — and a daughter as wonderful as you.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 21st, 2007 at 3:34 am and is filed under Friends and Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.