Over the past several days a few friends and family members have asked me what about having a girl I’m most excited about. And I think the answer they were expecting was probably something along the lines of OMG THE PRETTY DRESSES. But that’s not the real answer; not even close.
Before we get into that, though, we should probably take a minute to talk about those dresses, because hello they are cute. Yes, little boy clothes are fun too, and I had convinced myself that they were *almost* as fun as little girl clothes…but…ummmm…
Not really.
Over the weekend, we went on a celebratory Baby Gap trip that probably wasn’t especially well-thought-out, considering that these purchases were made in preparation for an event that’s a solid half-year away and considering that as a parent I know that what you actually dress your newborn in are not “outfits” but rather cozy onesies (like this and this and oh my goodness this), but come on:
That is a CHEETAH-PRINT BABY DRESS. And there is a MATCHING HEADBAND (which I obviously bought as well). The shopping trip was silly and exciting and fun for all three of us, and made it feel “real” (just like moving the crib into the room that is presently my office and will soon be the nursery did), and honestly, to me that’s thirty bucks well-spent.
(I almost bought a lime-green tutu with little stars on it, but restrained myself when I saw the expression of horror on Kendrick’s face.)
But while adorable little outfits are nice and all, they’re not even close to “what I’m most excited about.” What I’m most excited about doesn’t actually even have anything to do with the gender of my child at all: it’s that I get to raise a whole other human being with all of the wonderful and scary and fascinating things that come with such a crazy and intense undertaking.
That’s not to say that I don’t have fantasies of a little girl who I can talk to about what it means to be a woman, and who I can guide through heartbreaks and victories and everything in between, who will call me on the phone every day even when she’s thirty and who will, when she is older and feeling sad, remember how I used to brush the hair off of her forehead when she was little and feel better.
But I know that who I’m raising is not a “little girl”, but a person, and our experience as parent and child will be as individual as she is. I can fantasize all I like, but when it comes down to it the most important thing I can do – the only thing I can do, really – is to support her and be there for her whoever she may be, and wherever she may go.
So I guess that’s what I’m most excited about. Finding out who she is, and where she will go.
