I always knew I would have a daughter. I planned our long walks on the beach and our talks about being a girl and about developing into a woman. I anticipated battling the “princess” culture. I delighted in little girl sundresses and sandals. Well – guess what? We looked at the ultrasound in anticipation and my little girl wasn’t a girl, but a boy. “What will I do with a boy?” I said to anybody who would listen. “I don’t know boys. I know girls. Do I even like little boys?” I panicked.
I believe that there is a higher power somewhere and she chuckled at me those days, knowing the path ahead of me. I gave birth to that little boy and 11 years later, he is one of my best friends and greatest teachers. He has taught me so much about not only the unfairness of how the world treats little girls, but also the pressures and weird gender messages given to our young men. My son and I have a game we play together in the car sometimes. I will say, “Little girls like pink ponies and babies and kittens.” My son will say, “Little boys like guns and war and dead puppies.” It cracks us both up because as much as I hate Barbies, he hates guns even more. It is all so ridiculous.
I found out this summer that the little boy I thought I was adopting this spring is actually a little girl. And guess what I thought – as God chuckled? “What will I do with a girl?”
I can’t wait to meet her and see what lessons she will teach.