For those of you who know me pretty well (which is probably all of you reading this blog), I was convinced, 100%, without a shadow of a doubt, from the bowels of my heart and soul, that Scott and I were having a little boy. As soon as I found I was pregnant and processed all of the scary but exciting news, I just knew that a boy was growing inside of me. I was convinced. All I ever knew was girls- I have an older sister who had a little princess, Grayce. I have been surrounded by girls all of my life! I have always been a girlie girl- from cheerleading to clothes to a short lived ballet phase, I have lived and dreamed pink. Even my sorority colors are pink...
Even though I love being a girl, it is really hard at times to be all things to all people.... Dealing with heartache, other people's expectations, trying to be and subsequently learning that you are not perfect (and neither is anyone else, for that matter), roller coaster emotions.... you get the picture. I thought, for some reason, that boys are magically easier and therefore, I needed one.
As most girls would probably attest to, middle school was awful. High school brought with it a deeply serious and emotional romantic relationship that lasted well into college only to blow up in my face....I was devestated. No real girl drama followed me from middle to high school...not even in college. After graduating from UGA and officially becoming a "big" girl and a professional in my early 20's, I found out that those girls from middle school still existed (gasp! I needed to try to be the best person I could be for myself and for Scott and to try my best to not worry about anyone else or their opinions of me. This is something that is so difficult to learn!
Ever since we learned that we were expecting, nature has kind of put some things into perspective for me....thank goodness. What can be more important than this little person growing inside of me?
For all these reasons listed above, I thought that boys had it easy...it doesn't even take them that long to get ready for goodness sake! This, I thought, was a good indication of how easy it would to raise a little boy. A baseball cap and cargos? Done! I was ready for a little boy.
Well, as luck and love would have it, we have been blessed with a beautiful little girl and I can't imagine it any other way! I am already head over heels in love with her....
I came across this blog that a friend sent me a day after we found out that we were having Ella. I wish I would have been able to come across this exact post the day that she forwarded, but, alas, I just saw this post today and just had to share. I hope that you enjoyed it as much as I did!
Girl of my Dreams
POSTED BY GIRL'S GONE CHILD ON THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2009 AT 9:39 AM
I didn't want a daughter. I always figured I'd grow up and have babies. Boys, only boys, I said to myself and out loud. I would be a natural mother to boys. Me with my fart jokes and inability to function in large groups of women. Me with my love for skateboards and cannonballs and snakes and spiders. Me who always preferred boys as friends and roommates and confidantes.
Women are supposed to want girls. Especially after they've already given birth to boys but the concept of mothering a daughter always frightened me. What if boys were mean to her when she was older, called her a dog (woof! woof!) while the girls called her "ugly" to her face during her awkward years? What if she became popular as she aged, even pretty, so that the older boys liked her and the older girls hated her, threw eggs at her face at parties, graffitied DIE SLUT on her garage door with chocolate syrup. (Remind me to tell you the story about how the most popular girls are always the most unpopular.)
What if in High School she decided to hate me? Told me to go fuck myself, slammed the door in my face, like I did my own mother throughout my teen years. What if she had her heart broken, locked herself in bathrooms, flirted with older men so they would buy her beer? What if she went on to hang out with drug addicts, had to watch them die, drove too fast. What if she fell in love before her heart was mature enough to handle a fracture, was taken advantage of by bad men who were old enough to know better than to touch her, hurt her, convince her that she was worthless, turn her inside out of her mind.
What if she became... me?
What if I was unable to guide her through the torrential downpour that is adolescence and beyond? What if I forgot how it felt to be a girl becoming a woman? What if I punished her wrongfully and she was never able to trust me again?
After giving birth to Archer, I never knew what to do around little girls. I never knew how to act around friend's daughters, so rarely did I spend time with small children who weren't boys. Who weren't Archer or his friends, but one day, a couple years ago, I met a little girl. A daughter of a friend of Hal's and she liked me. We all met at a restaurant and the girl brought a book she was reading and immediately started telling me all about it and how much she appreciated fantasies.
"I especially like fantasy books with animal characters," she said so I asked her if she knew of the Redwall Series books, because those were my favorite when I was her age. Mossflower especially. She had never heard of them before so she asked me to spell the author's name for her as she carefully wrote it down in a little spiral notepad.
We spent the whole evening talking as friends, about animals and books and boys and our favorite kind of pizza and for the first time I thought to myself I could have a daughter. Little girls aren't so scary.
On our way home from dinner I told Hal that I wasn't afraid of having a daughter anymore.
"I didn't know you were ever afraid. I just thought you didn't like girls."
I had a feeling you were in there the moment I peed on the pregnancy test. Even when you were only a bundle of cells I dreamt I had a daughter and she was running and laughing and blonde and you.
"I think its a girl," I said to your father. "I had a dream."
And Hal laughed because I'm always having dreams and there are always "signs" and I'm always talking about good omens (today I found all of these quarters in the coin return of the parking meter so I rushed home and proclaimed WE'RE RICH!) and I shrugged and said "just watch. It's a girl and she's going to have blonde hair like in my dream."
And your dad made a face like I was crazy and said "we'll see about that."
I was right about the dream. About you being a girl and when the ultrasound tech said "Congratulations! It's a girl!" I said "I know!" like I was psychic or something. And I drove home from the doctor's appointment hunched over my steering wheel, nervous. Excited, of course but also nervous and even scared out of my mind because holy shit, I was going to have a daughter.
That night I had another dream about you and your hair was still blonde and you were once again laughing except this time you were chasing me. And in the dream I was crying because I was laughing so hard and it felt so real that I woke up and looked for you in the darkness. Forgetting you were with me. In me. And for whatever reason, just knowing that made me feel Safe. Less afraid.
You played in my dreams every night after that. Playing peek-a-boo behind trees, leading me out of the rain on one occasion, and by the time I went into labor many months later, I was no longer (not even a little bit) afraid. Not of giving birth to a daughter. Not of you or becoming your mother. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life was but a dream.
And then you were here and I wanted to punch myself in the face for ever thinking for a second that I didn't want a daughter. That I didn't want a little girl. That I didn't totally and absolutely need you as my child.
I was instantly changed in that hospital room, the moment the nurse handed you to me, under the delivery lights, my blood still thick in your hair, your mouth searching for me, lost and found. You're presence was familiar, like we had met before, like we had known each other since the beginning of time. (Maybe we have.)
It's amazing how wrong a person can be about things. About herself and what she wants. About her ability to be someone, to love something. Until you were born I was jealous of the boys and the fun they got to have. A reluctant woman in isolation, little desire to make girlfriends or pursue female relationships that extended beyond the surface. Closed little clam, I smiled and waved and faked my way through social functions, befriending few, keeping secrets from most. "Girls suck," I mumbled, expecting every woman I met to pull me down, knock me over, throw eggs and chocolate syrup. Guilty until proven innocent.
Girls don't suck anymore.
In my dreams you were faceless and now I know why. I never would have believed such beauty was possible....like magic, you are.
It is my greatest honor to be your guide for as long as you'll have me.
Thank you (Dear Fable) for being mine.