Today I discovered at a routine 19 week ultrasound that I am expecting my third boy and you are never to be. The daughter I have so long assumed would be mine, will never exist.
To be honest I had prepared myself for this. I went through this post in my head before I even knew for sure, but deep down I think I always did know. I suspected you weren’t to be my reality.
I think I’ve been letting go of you for a while now.
Mr Vick assures me that we’ve been dealt this card because we’re good at parenting boys. I do agree. We’re used of doodles not vag here. You might just have created unfamiliar territory which could have turned our parenting confidence into crisis.
Some people may call me shallow and I’m pretty sure society would say I shouldn’t be thinking all these things because healthy babies are above and beyond in importance and so many are denied them. I have been granted three. Trust me, my gratitude is beyond anything that could be described. I am blessed and my boys are my big love. Yet, I am a real person and life has allowed me to meditate on daydreams and craft stories in my head about you. I just thought, and I always have thought, a little girl like you would have been nice to hold onto.
So now, and just for now, I have to let you go. For I know there will be no more baby Vicklets.
I have to let go of names like Poet, Kitty and Matilda which we contemplated for you. I know you would have suited one of those just so.
I have to let go of the quirky, vintage inspired outfits that I so long kept tucked away in a glory box in waiting, just for you. You would have looked beyond delightful in them.
I need not know how to braid or collect any more ribbon for the bows you would have demanded to be tied in your hair. I would have adored brushing your long, shiny hair.
I need to let go of daydreams where your dress swishes about in the sunshine and I show you how to make your first daisy chain crown.
I have to stop considering how I would approach the period talk with you as you navigated towards womanhood. I would have softened your horror and soaked up those magic moments of woman to woman bonding.
I will never have to explain shaving vs. waxing or how to apply liquid eye liner or the importance of primer. Such knowledge of female grooming will be kept just for myself.
I need not worry about how boys and men will treat you. You will never come to me for explanation about their peculiar behavior and annoyances. I will never get to help mend your broken heart.
I need to let go of the title “mother of the bride” because it will never belong to me. That one really stings. I so wanted to shed a tear as you walked down the aisle on your Dad’s arm and fuss over all the details of that day.
Never will I get to share my stories of pregnancy, mother to daughter, and attend the birth of your children. I would have burst with pride that day.
I really wanted all this. I wanted to share all of it with you.
There is a sadness but I’ve grown to trust that it’s just letting go a little for now. My path is not with you in the here and now.
But you and I will meet baby girl.
Not this year. Not next year or the year after, or perhaps even for another twenty years, but I know you will be in my life.
With some time and the unveiling of another generation, you will be mine. I know this.
So we won’t meet as mother and daughter, but you will arrive and be my beautiful grand daughter. I trust this.
All in good time.