It’s a girl.
The scariest words I ever heard.
I wanted a boy.
At the time, I already had one boy, so I knew what to expect.
But that was not really the reason.
I was afraid.
Afraid to raise a daughter.
“I hope you have a girl, so you know how difficult it is.”
“I hope you have a girl, so you will understand.”
“I hope you have a girl, so you will see what you put me through.”
I was terrified.
And I believed the lies.
I never thought I was a problem child. (I really wasn’t – but that’s for another post.)
But I thought if I had a daughter, we would not be close.
I did not know how to be a mom to a daughter.
That is why I wanted a boy.
Mom was close with my brother.
Their relationship seemed so easy.
Ours was forced and never genuine.
There are only a handful of times I remember my mom showing genuine compassion towards me.
I hang on to those times.
But if it was so difficult for her, that meant it would be difficult for me.
That is what I believed.
I believed moms were closer with their sons.
I believed moms loved their sons more.
How twisted is that?!?
I know I am not her, but sometimes those thoughts crept in.
Genetically, I am half her.
I am choosing to believe most of that “half” lies in our looks. 😉
I choose every day to live differently.
I strive to be the most kick butt version of myself, for my daughter.
So, she knows that she can do great things.
But mostly, so she knows I will always be in her corner.
I will always be her biggest fan.
Even when she hates me through her teen-aged year, I will be there.
She will never question my love for her.
God willing, I will be there physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I will be there, like mine wasn’t.
I did not want a girl.
I needed one.