My Daughter’s Mango

I’m crazy busy these days, setting up multiple new social media accounts in a completely different pen name and finishing the hundred little details in getting out my new series. Since this will be Christian fiction, I’m adopting a new alter ego.

This is nothing, however, considering the upheaval in my younger kiddo’s world. In addition to getting Board Certified as an ER doc, buying a beautiful house and moving into it, accepting her boyfriend’s proposal and dealing with the constant ups and downs in her career, she is now preparing for the entrance into her life of…a little Mango.

My Beloved Husband and I are very excited for her. From a young age, she announced that she wanted to have kids. In the meantime, she’s grown up and spent a heck of a lot of time in school. College, Masters of Medical Sciences, med school and three years of residency(in Brooklyn, no less).

She shed several loser guys, learned a lot the hard way and became an adult. Now in a job in which she can make a massive difference every shift, she helps others. I’m deeply proud of this and thrilled that she gets the appropriate salary for doing it.

She’s now expecting a Mango. Somewhere in the website land of pregnancy info, fetus size is indicated in vegetable/fruit sizes. This has been a bunch of fun for us. Every week, she casually announces the size of the growing child. Bunch of Grapes, Pomegranate, Mango, Papaya, Coconut. (Mind you, this kid must be carrying really internally because she hardly looks pregnant at all and she’s due in April.) When she first told us about this, she was at the Pomegranate stage, then the Mango. Somehow the Mango thing stuck and this is how we refer to the coming child. Her name is already chosen, but it seems wrong to address by name a person who isn’t here yet.

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