A couple of weeks before the big gender-reveal ultrasound, I realized I could be wrong about having a boy. That tends to be how my life goes -when I think something is going to be a certain way, it's usually not. I started mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the possibility of having a daughter. My husband also felt like we were having a boy, and was terrified of having a girl. I wasn't sure how he'd react either. Would he be happy with a daughter?
The big day came. The ultrasound tech took one look at my spread-eagle little baby and said "there's no doubt about it, you are having a girl!" In that moment, I was happy. A huge smile came over my husband's face and he kissed me. It was okay. Well, kind of.
My husband went out to the waiting room with the over-joyed grandparents as I signed paper work. The woman at the desk said "what are you having?" All of the sudden, tears filled my eyes. "A girl," I said. Then I excused myself, went into the bathroom, and broke down crying. All my fears came crashing down. What if her life is hard? What if bad things happen to her? What if she hates me one day? What if she hates herself? I looked at myself in the mirror and held my belly as I cried. Was I really growing a baby girl?? The world is not safe for her.
There was a knock at the door and I heard my husband's voice, "Sweetheart? Are you okay?" I had clearly concerned the receptionist and she went to find him. My husband came in and asked what was going on helped to calm me down, (this being one of the many times he's found me crying in a bathroom in ten and a half years). I cleaned myself up and put on my brave face. On my way out of the office, I apologized to the woman behind the desk. She smiled kindly. "Don't worry, hon," she said. "It happens here all the time."
As my pregnancy progressed, I became incredibly excited to have a baby girl. I began to understand that I am me because of my life experiences. My daughter may have a similar personality, but my life is not her life. She is not me, just as I'm not my mom, and mom was not her mom. I am not a terrible person to be like, either! My passion comes from my big heart. I am opinionated but I have convictions. I am flighty because I am creative. Plus, I know how to deal with me, so if I have a daughter like me, I can understand her and help her.
The moment Isabelle came out of me and the doctor placed her on my chest, my husband and I cried out of pure love. I knew in that moment I loved her with my entire heart, and would fiercely protect her with my life. We are so happy to have our sweet baby girl. Incidentally, she is a lot like my husband right now! I spent so much time worrying she would be like me, it didn't occur to me that she could be like him! This will likely change as she gets older, and I'm still anticipating rocky teenage years.
My daughter's middle name is Grace. It's Grace because that's exactly what we will each need. To me, grace means gentle forgiveness and understanding. Grace is room to be human. I will need to give myself grace as a mom, because I will mess up, a lot. She's 8 months old and I already have. She will need to show herself grace as a woman in this world, because it's going to be hard. I've made a commitment to listen to her, to show her kindness, and to be there for her without judgement. I will need her to show me grace, because there are going to be times I fail her miserably. And when the time comes where I yell "Isabelle Grace!" at her when she's in trouble, I'm literally yelling "grace" as a reminder to both of us.
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