I've literally been thinking about what to write to you in your first letter since August 3 . . . the day that we went in for my ultrasound. I had a feeling that something was different when she began . . . but I couldn't believe that we weren't having another boy.
I was all set to have three boys, and was shocked as I saw the technician begin to type . . . "I-T-S--A--G- . . . "
All I could think was "A what? Wait . . . "Boy" doesn't start with a "G". She forgot the apostrophe in 'it's' so perhaps she just isn't that great with spelling and grammar"
But there were no typos. You are a girl. And I sat there the rest of the appointment and watched my daughter wiggle around on the screen. I loved you from the moment that I knew we were pregnant. And I loved you even more as I watched you dance while the technician measured every last bit of your anatomy.
It took some getting used to . . . the idea of having a daughter. I had trouble wrapping my mind around it, and that's when I started thinking about this letter. Would I tell you how inadequate I feel raising a girl? Would I explain that I'm afraid that we'll be completely different and even more afraid that we'll be exactly the same? I spent the next 4 1/2 months imagining what it would be like.
And then you were born. I will never forget the moment that I saw you and heard you because it was the moment that none of my fears mattered any more. The nurses wrapped you up and handed you to me and I couldn't imagine anyone else in my life. I couldn't stop crying. My heart overflowed. You were perfect and you fit perfectly. I couldn't believe that I had ever hoped for a boy. It seemed crazy.
Your Dad and I spent your first night just staring at you and marveling over how beautiful you are. Your brothers came the morning you were born and I was a little worried about how they'd react, but they both held you and showered you with kisses. You are so special to all of us.
In your short life, I've already demonstrated on several occasions that I'm not perfect and that I make mistakes. You'll figure out soon enough that I don't always parent the way I should and that, on some days, it is by the grace of God alone that I make it through the day. But I hope you'll always know that your Dad and I love you as much as we possibly can and more importantly, that there is a God who planned for you and loves you more than we ever could.
You, little girl, were meant to be.