mood: ebullient | drinking: water
…and everything nice, that’s what little girls are made of. So they say.
(Although I remember being a little girl and I wasn’t always sugar and spice. There might have been a puppy dog tail or two thrown into my recipe.)
From the moment that plus sign appears, you find yourself wondering who this new creature will turn out to be. And “Boy or Girl?” is right up there at the top of the list of questions. It’s certainly the thing people most want to know, right after they ask you when you’re due.
Finally, we have an answer. The Bean is a bean-ette.
I made the ultrasound technician check, twice, to be sure there were no beans and frank hiding anywhere. She was quite positive in her diagnosis, though. “No suprises,” she assured me, “It’s definitely a girl.”
This whole time, I’ve tried very hard not to want a girl over a boy. Because what if Bean turned out to be sporting a penis, and then later he found out that his mum actually wanted him to be a girl? That would suck.
But let’s be honest. I’ve been stashing away girl stuff for a very long time now, just in case. I really, really wanted to have a daughter.
Of course, there’s no guarantee that Bean will turn out to be the kind of girl who will even be interested in the trinkets and goodies I’ve been saving for her. But maybe, someday is good enough to go on for now.
The day before the big reveal, I wrote this poem to capture how I felt before I knew the answer to the gender question. I hope someday Bean will like this, too…
Wishful thinking will not change
the tint of your eyes
the grain of your hair
the Xs or Ys of chromosomes.
You already are whoever
you are going to be.
In a windowless room at the office
I lay on the graying carpet
and let a woman string a ring
on a strand of my hair.
She held it motionless
above the mound of belly
where you swim.
If it swung in a circle,
you would be a girl.
Perpendicular, a boy.
In my impatience to meet you
I have imagined a whole wardrobe
of bright cotton dresses. I have drawn up lists
of names. (The page for girls is longer.)
Your aunt has entered birth dates
into gender calculators,
all of which predicted
you will be my daughter.
But today the ring swung
in a line, not a circle.
I want you to know, now,
before we inspect you
with sound waves,
that you are loved
exactly as you are.