I always thought I was a fearless woman, but when I found out I was pregnant it added a level of terror to my life that I had never dreamed of. To a certain extent, I had expected it. Katara had confided in me throughout her pregnancies and it seemed like anxiety was a normal part of any pregnant woman's life. But I had fears that I doubted my friends would understand, and they burned inside my chest as the months crept forward.

The worry that I wouldn't be a good mother, that was expected. My own mother had loved me, certainly, but she had never been a good parent. My mother had swung between extremes of neglect and control, and she had never found a middle ground where she could understand and support her own child. Still, I had several friends with young children and I was able to watch them and play with them without any problems. From quiet talks with my friends, it seemed like something most expecting parents experienced. When I reluctantly brought it up to my husband, he confessed that he felt it too. Even after her first pregnancy Katara had fretted over what kind of mother she'd be, and her family was growing beautifully.

The fear of what could happen to my child, that was something I had anticipated too. Aang had come to me for advice when Katara woke up crying from bad dreams about lost children night after night. However, I hadn't expected the turn my own worries would take. I gradually began to have nightmares where my baby had disappeared, carried off into the air or across the water, places where I was helpless. Even a simple wooden floor would be enough to hide my child from my vision. Although I hadn't resented my blindness since I was a child, I began to think bitterly about my condition. When I lay in bed sleepless, my own mind tortured me with scenarios where the simple gift of sight would be the answer and I would be powerless.

Then, there was always the question of what my child would be like. Especially now, I was painfully aware of the limitations her blindness could place on her. Blindness hadn't appeared anywhere else in my family, but it was nothing Katara had been able to heal either. On the one hand, I wanted her baby to be free to experience everything life could offer, but on the other I was desperate for some deep personal bond to tie me to my child. If my child was a non-bender, how would we relate to each other? My entire life was centered around bending, even more than the Avatar's. Worst of all, if my baby was blind and couldn't bend, it would feel like I was taunting my own child with how I was given a gift that gave me freedom they could never expect.

It was difficult to last through those nine months. I could think of so many things that could go wrong, I would almost have preferred to just stay pregnant forever. When my time came, Katara and Suki were the only ones I let stay with me. We had set it up together so that I could lay on a stone slab and see everything instead of having to give birth blind. It was nearly the worst pain I'd ever felt, but it was over soon and Katara healed me as Suki gently cleaned my baby. I was exhausted beyond words, but relieved and indescribably proud.

"Toph, it's a girl!"

As she started to fuss and cry, I reached out my arms for her, suddenly desperate to hold her close. How could I ever have doubted that I'd love her when I'd carried her for so long beneath my heart? I cradled her gently against my chest, running soft fingers along her tiny features as Katara and Suki stepped up next to me to look at her. I felt her eyelashes flutter open under my fingertips.

"Oh, she has your eyes!"

I burst into tears.

Katara stumbled all over herself to explain that no, no she wasn't blind, her eyes were responding to movement and light. It was alright. I fought furiously to get myself under control. I thought I had been prepared for anything, but clearly I had been wrong. As I set myself up to nurse my baby -Lin, I think - I asked Katara and Suki to describe her to me as perfectly as they could. As beautiful as their descriptions were, I learned more by gentle touches. I felt the soft folds of her skin and the brush of her nose against my chest. I found her tiny, perfect hands and tucked a single finger inside her fist.

As Lin grew, I worried less. What I might have missed with sight I made up for with sound and touch. It was one of my favorite activities to have my friends describe her to me, but nothing compared to holding her to me and feeling her silky cheek against mine. One day when she was four, I was cooking in the kitchen when I felt the ground shift under my feet and heard a muffled crack from the next room. I raced over, worried that she had hurt herself, and found Lin standing in a cloud of dust next to a crack stretching from floor to ceiling. She stood with her shoulders hunched like she was expecting a scolding, but I couldn't help laughing at how the first time my little girl bent, she broke the house. She looked up at me and I swept her up in my arms, spinning her around in circles. Lin wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly, and through the dust I saw her face break into a wide smile.