To my baby girl
I once heard that a child is energetically conceived 18 months before physical conception takes place. I do know is that Sarah was indeed a twinkle in my eye well before I got that positive Clear Blue Easy.
My husband and I were already blessed with a lovely daughter, and we felt it was time for her to have a little brother or sister. After a few months of trying, “Bingo!”- I was pregnant. Not only was I excited about our growing family, I also thought it was so cool to be having a baby in the year 2000. I started researching names, and had a long list of boy’s and girl’s to sift through. And while I had that familiar discomfort of fatigue, swollen breasts and constipation during the first couple of months, this time I embraced it, knowing I’d have another beautiful life in our home for the winter.
And then suddenly, it all went away. I remember having lunch with a girlfriend before my 4th month and saying, “Funny, I don’t feel pregnant”. I figured that I was just luckier the second time around. I was going to have my sonogram a few days later, which would confirm that my baby was thriving.
Later that week, I started bleeding heavily and went straight to the maternity hospital to see if I had miscarried. My heartbreak turned to stupefaction when the sonogram revealed that I was never pregnant to begin with. I felt not only profound disappointment that this baby wasn’t meant to be, but also guilt because I knew that what I experienced was nothing compared to the dispair women suffer with infertility, miscarriages and still births. All I could do is get back on track as soon as my body was ready for another go.
So for me, Sarah was indeed conceived in my heart well before she found her way to my womb. It took a little longer to get pregnant this time around, but eventually we were back to our baby name list and my pregnancy symptoms. I didn’t feel as if anything was wrong, but my OB-GYN wasn’t going to let me feel at peace. I was a “mature” woman of 37 at the time, and she felt professionally obligated to scatter the seeds of doubt that ended up plaguing half my pregnancy. Thus commenced four months of pure anxiety starting with the blood test for Down Syndrome markers, continuing with the scary amniocentesis and culminating with the interminable wait for the reassuring results. I broke down in tears when I got the good news- never have I felt so drained.
Sarah was born healthy and strong on November 30th, 2001. Boy, could she bellow! She would use her mighty set of lungs mostly at bedtime, where I quickly realized that she needed to be in constant physical contact with me. Lying alongside me in bed as a newborn, she would swing her arm to whack me to make sure I was there. I would nurse her until she fell asleep, which was frowned upon by many at the time. When I stopped breast feeding, it was my hand that took over as a security blanket, which she would gather and pinch until she slipped into dreamland. I can’t help but think that it was my early pregnancy anxiety that had her latch onto me so tightly.
However, it wasn’t long before Sarah let go of her tenacious grip on me, becoming a carefree, outgoing toddler. She had the cutest curl in the middle of her forehead, which made her a perfect candidate for the Gerber baby. There was something “retro” about her that harkened back to a more comforting past. She was headstrong and easy-going all at once. If she wasn’t happy with her bedtime ritual, she would hurl all her stuffed toys at us from her crib. One of her first words was “Bado”, which was her way of saying “Pardon”, or “Excuse me” in French. She would circle around the kitchen table, saying “Bado, bado”, pushing chairs and people out of the way.
Sarah had- and still has- a magnetic personality. People just gravitate towards her. I remember her first day of preschool: dressed in pink and carrying her little back pack, she was immediately greeted by Prefina, one of many besties she would have over the years. Then came Louanne, Nazifé and Emma, and many, many others. Our house slowly became an inn, with a steady flow of kids coming for lunch, sleep-overs, and parties.
Sarah became a middle child at the age of two, and quickly assumed the role of family mediator. This extended beyond our home, with her becoming the go-to person for comfort and advice at school and with the scouts. I saw that she had a natural gift for healing in this way. Now that she is pursuing a degree in nutrition, perhaps she will heal bodies as well in the future.
Like many moms, I observed my kids to see if they had any passions or talents they could develop, and then I would stoke the coals. With Sarah, it was music and cooking. She took up the violin at the Conservatory, but it wasn’t always her cup of tea. Nevertheless, two of my proudest moments was watching her solo performance in front of 1000 spectators and playing Ibrahim Malouf’s “True Sorry” with her high school group, “The Octopus”. As for the cooking part, I had machinations of her becoming the next Top Chef, so I gave her kiddie pastry lessons at Le Nôtre on the Champs Elysées. I was blown away with her delicate, flawless macarons.
While she no longer plays the violin nor does she aspire to be a professional chef (for now), music and cooking are fully integrated into her life on her terms. Like everything else in her life, Sarah manages to ultimately reach her goals, negotiating along the way when necessary. She did this when she managed to get the Conservatory to give her a lighter workload, when she switched her curriculum right before graduating from Lycée (where she received high honors), when she successfully navigated the Covid-afflicted job market in Paris as a 19-year-old, and when she recently got exactly the job (and conditions) she wanted at a chic spa.
She’s also an expert event planner, a talent that she got to showcase during our Covid confinement. An endless array of themed meals, name-that-tune contests and spa days turned our home imprisonment into a home holiday.
If she wanted to, she could easily be a fashionista influencer on Instagram. Lovely and with her own unique style, she can still look classic even with her tattoos and piercings. She can mix borrowed and vintage clothes and make it work. What’s cool is that she even covets pieces from her old’ mother’s not-so-edgy wardrobe.
Of course, life isn’t just a bed of roses, and Sarah has also had her share of challenges. But it was through these rough moments that I was able to be a real mom to her, whether it was just lying down and holding her after a painful breakup as a teen, or wrapping her in a cocoon of love after a fire gutted her apartment. It was during those times that I assured her that she would emerge stronger and more resilient- and she hasn’t disappointed.
In fact, she taught me a lesson she learned from the fire. After losing everything, she had to buy what she needed right away. In the end, she pared down her life to Marie Kondo simplicity…and has kept it that way. She appreciated this when her apartment building was fumigated for bedbugs recently: she managed to get everything into seven garbage bags. It calls to mind a line in a song by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young: “Teach your parents well”. I have a feeling I’ll be learning more from my little nut.
Happiest of birthdays, baby girl!
