Raising girls was NOT on my bucket list. When the ultrasound revealed a beautiful, healthy baby girl in my second pregnancy (our oldest is a boy), I wept. Not happy tears because she was healthy… but sad tears because she was a girl.
Oh, I know now that it was silly and selfish and hormonal. I guess I just always assumed I would have boys. I also assumed that girls were nothing but drama and trouble and tears, whereas these imaginary little boys I would bear would grow up to be heroic cowboys capable of saving my day. Maybe I just wanted an adorable crew of little boys at my disposal.
I’ve always been somewhat exasperated by girls even though I myself am of the female persuasion. I don’t have to tell you that girls can be complicated and emotional. They have feelings that they don’t know what to do with. They can be terribly mean just for the sport of it. Some of them revel in doing their darnedest to make you feel downright uncomfortable.
I guess I wept because I couldn’t envision the potentially awesome relationship that was ahead of me.
But then, 4-1/2 months after that teary ultrasound, our precious Emilyn was born… and she had me at Hello. Not only was she was visually perfect, but I immediately sensed her serenity, her room-filling light, her ability to just plain make everything better. Our little family was suddenly better just because she was part of it. Today, three years later, I see in her this ability to attract and befriend people who truly need to be noticed by her: the stranger at the petting zoo, the old bachelor at the branding, the grandma who’s not always confident in her likability. Emilyn is full of vim and vinegar, yes… but she also has the heart of a true lady.
And now our ranks have expanded with the addition of a baby sister for Emilyn. I didn’t cry this time when the ultrasound technician announced we’d be having another girl; I just grinned. It figured.
These two girls. They love each other. They hug. They squeeze the other’s cheeks and lay on slobbery kisses. I’m so glad they have each other.
And I’m so glad I have them, too. What I realize now is that I’m raising up my forever girlfriends. The kind that’ll go with me to get a pedicure. The kind that’ll tell me when I’m wearing a dorky outfit. The kind that’ll help me through the aging process. The kind that I can mold into my own personal all-girls ranch rodeo team… because they have to be on my team… because I went to all that effort to bring them into this world, right?
Because I’m their mama. And because maybe these little girls were the ones sent to save my day.
© Tami Blake