I never wanted a girl. I don't have anything against girls, but I never really was very good at being a girl myself, and always thought I'd make a better mother to boys. Boys are easy. Boys are low maintenance and low drama. Give them some sticks and a pile of dirt, and they'll think they can conquer the world.
So, after having two boys, I was fairly convinced that I was going to be a "boy mom," even after I got pregnant with twins. I mean, it just made sense, especially given the number of boys in Kyle's family, I just assumed that at least one of these twins would be a boy.
Then the surprise--not one girl, but two! WHAT?!? We were both a little shocked. Kyle even asked me to have the sonogram tech re-check during a follow-up appointment.
With the surprise came my minor freak out. What on earth was I going to do with not one, but two girls?!? Especially given our cultures obsession that "all girls are princesses" and "divas" aren't shunned as idiotic and self-absorbed, but rather hailed as a positive lifestyle choice. Our "all about me" culture completely vilifies girls who have servants hearts, hearts of bravery, compassion, tenderness. How on earth am I going to raise daughters of integrity and character in this kind of environment?
But then I calmed down as I reminded myself that they will have my genetics, which will be both a blessing and a curse for them. Hopefully they'll be resourceful, independent, and just stubborn enough to keep them out of trouble (I remember I used to say, "my no means NO!" quite a bit growing up).
But also, hopefully, they will have my passion for reading, because it was the characters in the books of my childhood that helped to shape who I became--as a girl, and later as an adult. I still think about these characters. I even sometimes go back and re-read these books.
These timeless books full of strong, brave, compassionate, resourceful girls who overcome tragedies and adversity. Heroines of my youth who I continue to admire today.
I think about Mary Lennox and the heart change she went through as she found new friends, a new home, and looked for a secret garden. I must have read that book 40 times.
I cheered along with young, brilliant, misunderstood Matilda as she defeated Miss Trunchbull and found a peaceful home with Miss Honey.
I identified with gangly, awkward Meg Murry, and shouted for her success as she rescued her father and found the beginnings of true love with the boy next door, Calvin (I even longed to learn to tesseract!).
I explored the frontier of the American West with resourceful Laura Ingles Wilder, and her sisters.
With Anna (and her brother Caleb), I felt the pain of loss and the renewing hope with the arrival of a young woman named Sarah, who was plain and tall.
I laughed at the hot-headed antics of a girl who insisted that her name be spelled "Anne-with-an-e." I especially identified with Anne, because like myself, she was adopted. She also never felt the need for several friends, just that one, close "bosom buddy."
I coveted the closeness of sisterhood as four little women struggled and rejoiced during the hardships of growing up in a time of war.
I believed Lucy when she claimed she found a land called "Narnia." The fact that her older sister, Susan, became an accomplished archer speaks to me even today.
Even Fern, whose compassion and determination to do the right thing saved a runt of a pig who later befriended a very special spider named Charlotte, was a hero in my eyes.
As an adult, I discovered books written during my childhood that I somehow missed (although given the number of books I have, that is hard to believe), such as Ronia, the Robber's Daughter. And today, we have seven extraordinary books that include a spectacular girl named Herminone--brilliant, brave, and loyal to the end.
All these girls, were fictional (except to me), but they were also brave and kind, adventurous and compassionate, resourceful and mischievous. They all have very human and obvious flaws--Mary Lennox was selfish, spoiled, and spiteful. Meg Murry struggled with self-perceived inadequacies, Anne struggled with her temper. They taught me that you don't have to be perfect to do something extraordinary.
When I think of these books, I get excited all over again--I get to share these books with my daughters! I get to see their faces as they read them for the first time. When I think of these books, suddenly having a daughter, let alone two, doesn't seem so scary to me. I realize that it's the next chapter in my own adventure book, and that I, too, am brave enough for this.
So, after having two boys, I was fairly convinced that I was going to be a "boy mom," even after I got pregnant with twins. I mean, it just made sense, especially given the number of boys in Kyle's family, I just assumed that at least one of these twins would be a boy.
Then the surprise--not one girl, but two! WHAT?!? We were both a little shocked. Kyle even asked me to have the sonogram tech re-check during a follow-up appointment.
With the surprise came my minor freak out. What on earth was I going to do with not one, but two girls?!? Especially given our cultures obsession that "all girls are princesses" and "divas" aren't shunned as idiotic and self-absorbed, but rather hailed as a positive lifestyle choice. Our "all about me" culture completely vilifies girls who have servants hearts, hearts of bravery, compassion, tenderness. How on earth am I going to raise daughters of integrity and character in this kind of environment?
But then I calmed down as I reminded myself that they will have my genetics, which will be both a blessing and a curse for them. Hopefully they'll be resourceful, independent, and just stubborn enough to keep them out of trouble (I remember I used to say, "my no means NO!" quite a bit growing up).
But also, hopefully, they will have my passion for reading, because it was the characters in the books of my childhood that helped to shape who I became--as a girl, and later as an adult. I still think about these characters. I even sometimes go back and re-read these books.
These timeless books full of strong, brave, compassionate, resourceful girls who overcome tragedies and adversity. Heroines of my youth who I continue to admire today.
I think about Mary Lennox and the heart change she went through as she found new friends, a new home, and looked for a secret garden. I must have read that book 40 times.
I cheered along with young, brilliant, misunderstood Matilda as she defeated Miss Trunchbull and found a peaceful home with Miss Honey.
I identified with gangly, awkward Meg Murry, and shouted for her success as she rescued her father and found the beginnings of true love with the boy next door, Calvin (I even longed to learn to tesseract!).
I explored the frontier of the American West with resourceful Laura Ingles Wilder, and her sisters.
With Anna (and her brother Caleb), I felt the pain of loss and the renewing hope with the arrival of a young woman named Sarah, who was plain and tall.
I laughed at the hot-headed antics of a girl who insisted that her name be spelled "Anne-with-an-e." I especially identified with Anne, because like myself, she was adopted. She also never felt the need for several friends, just that one, close "bosom buddy."
I coveted the closeness of sisterhood as four little women struggled and rejoiced during the hardships of growing up in a time of war.
I believed Lucy when she claimed she found a land called "Narnia." The fact that her older sister, Susan, became an accomplished archer speaks to me even today.
Even Fern, whose compassion and determination to do the right thing saved a runt of a pig who later befriended a very special spider named Charlotte, was a hero in my eyes.
As an adult, I discovered books written during my childhood that I somehow missed (although given the number of books I have, that is hard to believe), such as Ronia, the Robber's Daughter. And today, we have seven extraordinary books that include a spectacular girl named Herminone--brilliant, brave, and loyal to the end.
All these girls, were fictional (except to me), but they were also brave and kind, adventurous and compassionate, resourceful and mischievous. They all have very human and obvious flaws--Mary Lennox was selfish, spoiled, and spiteful. Meg Murry struggled with self-perceived inadequacies, Anne struggled with her temper. They taught me that you don't have to be perfect to do something extraordinary.
When I think of these books, I get excited all over again--I get to share these books with my daughters! I get to see their faces as they read them for the first time. When I think of these books, suddenly having a daughter, let alone two, doesn't seem so scary to me. I realize that it's the next chapter in my own adventure book, and that I, too, am brave enough for this.
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