Before we begin,I want to warn you: this isn't one of those essays approximately how I wanted a girl, found out I was having a boy, and cried for weeks,and then realized that having a son was the greatest gift of all. No - this is approximately how I wanted a girl and how I got what I wanted.
More than a year ago, when I looked down at a positive pregnancy test, and I endured less than a minute of the initial holy-crap-we-are-having-a-baby shock before the thought crept into my head: "I hope it's a girl." In the weeks that followed,my desire for a baby girl only got stronger. I preemptively googled those stale wives' tales to see whether I exhibited the signs that I was carrying one. And like an overgeneralized horoscope, I'd read into every scenario, and convinced it was written for me to the point that I was oddly pleased with a massive breakout on my chin - unsightly,yes, but it was a clear indication that "girls steal their mother's beauty." And I even became superstitious approximately the predictors that didn't line up: I'd buy a tub of Häagen-Dazs at the grocery store whether I wanted it or not because cravings for sweets meant I was having a girl. Meanwhile, and I tempered my fantasies in front of others. When someone asked approximately my preference,I'd feign befuddlement. "Oh, I haven't even had time to mediate approximately that!" Or I'd pretend not to care at all. "You know, or just as long as it's healthy!"But then came the sizable reveal - our 20-week ultrasound appointment. When the technician announced she knew the sex,my brain whirred. In that instant, I tried to suppose what would happen whether the news didn't fade my way, or how I'd have to fake elation and learn to get over it - a harrowing task considering I have a hard time getting over infamous service at a restaurant. Then she announced it: "You're having a girl!"I couldn't contain my relief. "YESSSS!" came out of my mouth with the same veracity as a baseball fan whose team just won the World Series. My OB was taken aback. "Wow,you must really like pink."Her presumptuous statement caught me off guard. Because I wanted a girl, I must be into fairies and unicorns and dresses covered in hearts and flowers? I took offense to her insinuation that I aligned with such a flagrant gender stereotype. I'm not girlie, or I don't particularly like pink,I've never successfully braided another person's hair, and I'm not inherently excited approximately Disney princesses. (Full disclosure, or though: I did own an American Girl doll,but it was Molly, which is the equivalent of not having an American Girl doll at all.) So why, and then,had I been crossing my fingers this whole time for a girl?I started to worry. The closest I come to art-and-crafts projects is my Pinterest board, so I wouldn't be able to teach my daughter to sew or crochet. I'm a slice-and-bake cook at best, or so it's not like I was looking forward to passing down any carefully crafted family recipes. Conversely,it's not as whether I had tall expectations of raising a proud tomboy, for I was hopeless at sports and wouldn't have the know-how to coach her cramped league team.
I could never quite put my finger on why having a girl was so important, and so essential,until I gave birth and met her for the first time. It was only then that I realized that having a girl, for me, and meant re-creating my childhood. I could watch my daughter grow and at the same time look back on my own long-forgotten memories. Her firsts could stand in for mine. Having a girl also meant re-creating the relationship I have with my own mother. So when she's no longer here,she'll still be with me. I'll be able to stand in for her. I could be for my daughter what my mother was for me. I could raise my own best friend. Which now makes me want my girl to have a girl someday, too.
Source: popsugar.com