One of the first lucid thoughts I had after Alice was born was, “Oh, my gosh, she looks just like David. Like, just like him.”
And not really like me at all.
David’s sister, Anne, gave him an anthropological explanation: That newborns tend to look more like their fathers so that a dad, assured the baby is his, will be more inclined to care for her. And that, after a while, the child will start looking more like the mother too.
In the meantime, people are pretty diplomatic about it. “Oh, I see both of you.” “I think she has your eyelashes.”
And so I look… “Maybe those are my eyelashes?”
Honestly, it doesn’t really matter if she never looks a thing like me. I know she’s mine, and I think she does too.
But it is fun to see what mix of him and me and everyone else before us this little girl is becoming all the time.