“It’s a girl,” I could hear a smile in the nurse’s voice from the other end of the phone line.
A girl.
A daughter.
You.
My hand caressed my growing belly as tears of joy streamed down my face.
I prayed for you, you know, before you even came to be. I dreamed of a little girl to complete our family—one who would become my best friend and make us whole.
And now here you are in my arms, your eyelids growing heavier with each sway of my hips. You’ve been with us for two months now, but sometimes I still have to pinch myself to believe that you’re real.
Don’t get me wrong, I took pride in the title of “Boy Mom”. Your brothers were the first ones to call me Mama, and from the beginning they lit up my world. But still, I always felt in my heart something was missing. While your daddy dreamed out loud of all the father-son adventures that lay ahead, I ached. I longed for the daughter I didn’t know if I would ever be blessed to have.
And then, on an unassuming day in April, two pink lines appeared—and just like that, here you are.
You, whose cries changed my whole world the second they broke through the delivery room.
You, whose hair I’ll pull back into pigtails just as soon as it’s long enough.
You, whose vote I’m counting on to sway family movie night to the occasional Rom Com.
You, whose stubbornness will surely match my own.
You, whose tears I’ll wipe away when your heart is broken for the first time.
You, whose hand I’ll squeeze tightly if one day you are blessed with a baby of your own.
You, whose friendship I will cherish always.
I imagine watching you walk through this life, close enough for you to lean on me, but with enough space between us so you can blossom on your own. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader and your truest support. Never will I miss a chance to point you out in a crowd and proudly declare, “She’s mine.”
The bond between mother and daughter is a forever kind of thing, and ours has only just begun.
My heart was waiting for you, sweet girl, and I’m so glad you’re finally here.
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