For 9 grueling months (ok, sorry, I'm not a "I love being pregnant" kind of girl!!) I carried her in my body. I threw up, dropped down to one cup of coffee a day, turned down even Tylenol for headaches, added to my already awesome collection of stretch marks and endured months of bed rest. I went through hours and hours of some of the worst pain in my life for her. And, even after she was out of my body, my body was still her's for almost a year and a half. I nursed her, held her, missed showers for her, held my bladder until it was convenient for her, and slept only when she allowed it. When her diaper is dirty, it's me that changes it. When she needs a bath, I am the one to wash her - including her hair which has become a screaming battle every time. When she gets shots, for the 10 + strep throat tests she's had, and for all the yucky medicine.... I have held her down. Dad likes to leave the room because he "can't handle it." I rock her every night, I sing the songs, I dry the tears, I apply the bandages, and even read most of the books. It is MY belly button she has to have her finger in to go to sleep and it's my toe that gets stubbed in the dark at 2:30 in the morning when she can't find my belly button in HER bed and I have to go get her, because she is crying: "Momeeeeee!"
But, ask her, "Who's girl are you?" and every time you'll hear: "Da-eeeee's." After spending all day pouring my heart and soul in to her raising, Dad walks through the door in the evening and you've never seen her run so fast! She jumps in his arms and acts like I've been beating her all day! It is so unfair! She had a really bad diaper rash a few days ago and of course, yours truly had to do the changing and wipe her poor bottom and apply the diaper cream, while she yelled for her Daddy to save her. And, save her he did, as soon as I was finished with the dirty work!
But. I have not lost heart. Because I know my day will come! As soon as she is grown and has her own little one growing insider her... well, that'll be MY time to shine! That's when the tables will turn. And, she'll always be Daddy's little girl, but I will suddenly be her confidante, her sounding board, her source of information... The phone will ring and he will answer and she'll say: "Hey, Dad! Is mom there? I need to ask her a question." And, when the baby comes, Dad will have to leave the room because he "can't handle it." But, if she'll have me, I'll be right there.
Ahhhhh, Daddy's little girls. A mother's rewards are great, but there is a wait for some of the big dividends! In the meantime, though.... They are pretty cute together.