But I'm not a geranium

While pregnant, I was sure I was carrying The Family Guy's Stewie Griffin. I would have a homicidal infant that would stare at me with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion, and address me as "my good woman".

Thankfully, my daughter is a complete dork (phew!), who likes to wear her plastic drum like a helmet and run in circles, flailing her left arm and shouting "Oh, crap!"

I think most of my fears during pregnancy stemmed from my own adoption. Not fully understanding the parasite that had attached itself to my innards, I thought it was waiting only to grow sufficiently so that when it burst through my stomach like "Alien", I would surely die.

Becoming a mother has forced me to truly understand myself, so that I can understand what I am giving to my daughter. In my 30's, I find myself dealing with my own identity on a very raw level for the first time.

I imagine being presented to my (adoptive) parents as a garden seed. With the best intentions, they planted me in ground and promised to love and nurture me. They made sure I had plenty of sunlight and nutrients and water, but what if they were treating me like a geranium seed, and I was really a cactus, or a stalk of corn? What if I was a peace lily, and didn't like direct sunlight? And now, what if I've been "playing" a geranium all my life, but I could be giving my daughter something cleaner? Something more... real?

Should I be I a product of my environment, or was there another plan for the Optimal Me?

I have absolutely no idea what will prevent me from raising a meth addict whore. If I have no idea who I am, what am I passing on to her?

At this point, I find myself making mental lists of my own qualities, like Julia Roberts at the end of the Runaway Bride:

Maggie: Benedict.
Ike: Arnold.
Maggie: I love Eggs Benedict, I hate every other kind. I hate big weddings with everybody staring. I'd like to get married on a weekday while everybody's at work. And when I ride off into the sunset, I want my own horse.
Ike: Should I be writing this down?

I hate eggs. Period. I like Django Reinhart. Nothing makes me happier than a full afternoon of constant rain. Fall is the most important season. Everyone should be able to bike to work. Walking in heels on a marble floor gives me a heightened sense of purpose. I can't make coffee. I think I was a trapeze artist in a former life.