Girlies

Every now and then I get a pang of grief.  It happens when I'm looking at one or the other of my sons, and I think, for just a moment, that I would give anything to have his little self again.

I loved my babies beyond reason.  I was glad they were both momma's boys for a time.  And I'm so thankful they grew into people I actually like.

So many people ask me if I wished for a girl. 

Here's the answer:  it never occured to me that I would have a boy.  Never.  When the doctor said, "here's your son," I was dumbfounded.  A boy?  Really?

Staci was dumbfounded too.  She was pretty sure she'd never even be able to remember his name.

But it really was a boy.  Both times.  And with boys comes a world I never knew existed.  It's a sweaty, rough-and-tumble, magical world.  I'm glad I didn't miss it.

Staci fell in love with Adam and even decided she could have a child.  She had the girl.  I was struck - often - by the wonder of Haleigh's her-ness.  Whenever we talked about that baby girl and used magical words like "her" and "she" I shivered.  Hers was a world I understood!

For the last decade I've been friends with women who have daughters - wonderful, bright young women.  I believe I've been granted a unique role in the lives of some of those daughters.  With some, I've had fashion impact - of COURSE every girl should have pink boots!  With others, I've had moments of sheer silliness.  With the rest, I've shared my faith or my music or my life theories.

But did I want a she for myself? 

Nope.  Not even a little bit.

And I'm especially happy to be mentor, friend, sister, niece, and auntie!