It's a baby.
More specifically, it's a baby girl!
I was very shocked, to say the least. Ever since I saw that little plus sign I've assumed it was a boy. Maybe because that was just our plan. We were planning on having a boy, and then a girl, then twin boy and girl (because that's definitely something we can control, right?) Then again, we were also planning on living on several acres of property in a custom-built house before having kids. And here we are living in an overpriced two bedroom apartment, scrambling to figure out how we're going to juggle school, work, and a baby. I guess life doesn't really follow a plan, though. Maybe for all those perfect people out there with their perfect plans. Maybe ours are more idle dreams than plans.
I'm also ashamed to admit that I cried when we popped that balloon and all the pink confetti came out. Our friend planned a gender reveal party for us, and floating amid all the pink and blue balloons around the room was a giant green balloon (for St. Patrick's day, since we want to give our kids all Irish names) that would reveal if it would be a boy or girl. For an hour and a half I had to try not to look at it because the balloon wasn't entirely opaque and I didn't want the surprise to be ruined. I was also terrified that I was going to be wrong. I've been telling people that I feel like it's a boy, and I hate being wrong. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, but how can that feeling be wrong? Isn't that part of motherly instincts? Besides, everyone else I know who's recently had a baby or is pregnant now is having a boy. So when I was showered with confetti that went all down my dress and all over the floor, I kept forcing myself to smile while trying not to cry. It makes me feel like a terrible person. It's not like I'm going to love her any less, but it's hard to wrap my head around. For months I've been saying "he" and now saying "she" is just weird.
Strangely, the thing that's helping me come to terms with growing a little girl is the nickname my nieces gave her. We had a jar that we had people place name suggestions in, and my ten- and six-year old nieces repeatedly suggested "monkey." They even got her a Build-a-Bear monkey already. And for some reason I can see that. When I feel her moving now, I can smile a little and say "hey, little monkey. Getting comfy in there?" Because saying monkey is for some reason easier than saying "Aislin" (pronounced Ash-lin) right now. Although I did smile typing that.
Two other things that make me feel better: one, this is going to be the best protected little girl in the world - Michael's friends from the army (my "big brothers" who already look out for me) will make sure of that. And two, now that I'm having a little girl, it's only a few short years until I get to be the kind of crazy Irish dance mom that made my mom want to tear her hair out all those years.
Happy Saint Patricks Day!
No comments:
Post a Comment