In Utero

We were pregnant together, Tea* and me. Both of us expecting our 3rd babies. Somewhere, if I were to dig deep enough, I could find photos of our bellies, huge and "kissing". Our babes, greeting each other with kicks and nudges before they were even born. (I'll spare us all THAT particular search, as I'm sure you can all use your imaginations.) (My pregnant self is cuter in your imagination.)

(*I've called her Pammy here before, and she's commented under "T", and since I don't prefer one letter pseudonyms, I've decided "Tea" fits her perfectly.)

Anyway, during our pregnancies, she was having a girl, and I was having a boy. We were both confident in this.

She had her baby first, and when her doctor put her daughter on her chest and said "It's a BOY!", she was shocked. Her husband captured this moment, and if I had that photo, I'd share it for sure. Because it's awesome.

I met her fresh newborn the next day, in the hospital. Still hugely pregnant myself (with my own little boy, I thought) I held his squishy body and imagined my own soon-to-be-born son.

As I held him though, a thought started to whisper in my head and heart... A nudging, really... If she had a boy... then I must be carrying a girl. Mostly, I ignored it. But it was there.

Several weeks later, my own delivery day came. Sure enough my baby was a daughter.

(While writing this, Marin climbed on my lap,looked at this photo and said: "Sol's a little taller than me, Mommy. He's like the dad and I'm like the mom. We're going to have babies. He's going to have a boy baby in his tummy and I'm going to have a girl baby in mine. Two babies.")

(AIIIIIEEEEEE!)

Where was I? Oh yes. So Tea had my boy and I had her girl. Having a friend go through pregnancy and new-baby-ness with you creates a special place for bonding. We've nursed together. Held each other's babes. Commiserated. Talked about when to start solids.

We've watched each other's and our own babies unfold into wee little people. Watched them play together. Learn to walk. Go from gummy-smiled to toothed. Throw tantrums. Start talking. Learn to say each other's names.

I no longer see Tea as much as I used to; her family moved about an hour away. But we still make a point to get together. To get our babies together. After all, she is raising my boy.

All joking aside, it's funny how these things turn out. I can't imagine either of us having any child but the one we have. Despite our pregnancy convictions, Sol was her boy all along, and Marin my girl.