Huh, well that was unexpected. Which is also saying a mouthful. You know, I kinda thought we only made boys. Which worked for me. Especially two in because I kinda thought I had a handle on it. I had the clothes. I knew the lingo. I was NOT going to have to give the period talk.
We opted to get the genetic testing. I didn't feel old but statistically my eggs were creaking down my tubes with their walkers and blue hair. Advanced Maternal Age. Holla! After taking all my blood, one of the tests they run is for DNA. You know within 7-10 business days, with absolute certainty, the sex of the baby. The company sends you the result in the email and I cannot calculate how many times I logged in to see.
There it was. XX. Baby is a girl. I am a firm believer in the baby choosing the family. That the baby, whoever they are and whenever they come, chooses you. I kinda freaked out when I found out. Not in a buy-all-the-pink-my-dreams-came-true way. But in a holy-shit-I-have-no-idea-how-to-mother-a-girl way. Some of that was from my experience of mothering boys. Much of it was my experience growing up with my mother and as a daughter. I didn't know how. I was scared and unsure and really wondering how the hell I was going to fake this one.
I was the only one wondering, apparently. Everyone else already knew what I didn't and they waited ever so patiently for me to see it. I was speaking to a friend about having a daughter and all of my fears and unknowns and she said - you know how you do it? You love her. The same way you love your boys. The rest will fall into place. We aren't there. The falling into place. But the love is there. Without fail. And when she was placed in my arms, it all shifted. Here it is. The moment you have been prepping your whole life for. To close the circle, end a cycle and start new with all you know and feel and learned. Parley didn't wait for me to think I was ready. She came when she knew I was.