For as long as I can remember, I’ve always seen myself as the mother of four boys. Well, since relationships involve compromises, we’d agreed on three.
I remember exactly when and where my doubts and worries began—it was when I found out. I was in the ultrasound room for my 12-week appointment when the technician moved the probe over my belly and told us… it’s a girl. A girl?
As relieved as I was to know she was perfectly healthy, I was just as worried that I wouldn’t be up to the task. A girl? What do girls eat in the winter? How do you play with a girl? So I wouldn’t be the “hockey mom” I’d imagined myself to be. Well, some might say she could play hockey anyway, and that’s true.
My biggest fear, though, was this: will I love her as much as I love my first child? Plus, I can’t really see myself playing with Barbies or dolls, or styling her hair with pretty braids—when for me, one hair tie, a ponytail, and boom, it’s done. I’m so in love with my son—is there even room left for a second child? Will she get my attention?
Throughout my pregnancy, I watched my belly grow, but my sense of attachment didn’t necessarily grow along with it. I wondered if that was normal and read a little about it. I found some comfort when people told me that little girls are closer to their fathers—that, for the most part, they’re daddy’s girls.
It wasn’t until the day you came into the world and looked at me for the first time that I truly understood—and laughed until I cried.
How could I have believed for even a moment that I wouldn’t love you? You’re so beautiful and full of life. You’re so charming and always smiling.
Yes, I’ll have to play with Barbies and dolls, but for you, my princess, I’d move mountains.
Valérie Louise Pesant