Most people who know both of us (especially his family) say that baby girl looks like her Aba. If anything, I get a “his features with your coloring.” Before she was born, I didn’t know what to expect her to look like, but I fantasized about my husband’s dark hair and my light green eyes. Instead, on the night she was born, I thought, she doesn’t look like anybody but herself. She was beautiful, and I was immediately in love.
It didn’t take long, though, for me to start searching for bits of myself within her face. You know, just to make sure there wasn’t a lab mix-up where they had injected Hubby’s sperm into someone else’s eggs. Turns out, she did get my tongue tie, but all that did was make breastfeeding incredibly painful. She got something else of mine, though, and I noticed it right away in the hospital. Every time she scrunched her face or tried out a new expression, there they were: tiny dimples, not in her cheeks (those wouldn’t show up clearly until she started smiling), but within the invisible lines drawn between the edges of her nostrils and the corners of her mouth.
Just like mine.