Dear new, precious little baby,
Someday, you will read this and wonder why the heck your mommy talked so much about her feelings. You’d do well to embrace it now: Mommy wears her heart on her sleeve. And, as such, I can’t help but mention that I hope you are a little girl.
But before I get too deep into why I have such a hope, let me explain something to you. I will – and already do – love you so very much. You are my surprise wonder! The baby who defied all the odds! And even though you are currently sending my body into a nauseated tailspin, it is worth every ache, pain, and hot flash just to bring you safely into this world. It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy, girl, giraffe, or a gargoyle – I will adore you and fawn all over you no matter what.
With that said, you have to understand that there is something natural about wanting a child from each gender. A nice balance. Also, *I* am a girl, and there are a lot of things I want to share with a girl that a boy wouldn’t necessarily be interested in: The Nutcracker Suite, Jane Austen, and knitting, for starters. I know there’s nothing wrong with cultivating a love of those things in a boy. But come on.
A lot of people say that girls are easier at the beginning and more difficult as they get older. I can really believe that, and those later years freak me out, no question. You should see your daddy shudder at the thought of raising a teenage girl. But your brother (whom I love more than life itself and would go to the gallows for) was so difficult and remains so high-energy that I am willing to forego any comfort I might have with you as a teenager just to avoid repeating the harrowing experience.
Anyway, I will probably be talking a lot on this blog about wanting a girl. Most likely a lot more than I should. And I just want you to know that it is for shallow reasons that I hope you are of the XX persuasion. My heart is yours either way, and my dearest hope is that you are healthy and happy in my tummy until you make your grand entrance. We can’t wait.