We met with our midwife a few weeks ago at her home. Eliza completely ignored me as she had discovered a red toy car that she could climb in and out of and open and close the doors. When the midwife checked my blood pressure Eliza was in her own little world, and when she drew my blood, Eliza was happily playing with our other midwife’s daughter. But when our midwife checked the baby’s heartbeat, Eliza snapped out of her play-filled trance and walked over to me. She looked at me with one-part curiosity, one-part confusion. Then she climbed on my lap and reached for the instrument on my belly as though she was investigating the cause of this strange but primal and familiar sound. She rubbed her hands in the gel on my stomach and curled up beside me. It occurred to me that she will rely on me and my cues to guide her through these next few months. It seems like a big, important and, somehow tender, responsibility.