I had my first pang of joy at the thought of raising a little girl yesterday.
Craig and I didn't learn "Junior's" gender when it was growing in my belly. Craig really wanted to be surprised at the birth and I was happy to honor Craig's request. It was worth the wait to hear the doctor announce, "it's a girl!" after my last push. Our parents' and brothers' reactions to the news of Junior's sex (thankfully caught on video) was priceless: my mother jumped up and down like a high school cheerleader while Craig's mother wore a perplexed look wondering how a Cepler created a girl since Ceplers only make boys (incidentally, another Cepler girl was born last month, so Ceplers can make girls).
In the past few months, I have been surprised to hear moms and moms-to-be of boys express disappointment in having a boy instead of a girl. Isn't everyone just relieved to have a healthy baby? And, to a large extent, a baby is a baby, as I haven't noticed any great gender divide between the sexes in infancy.
But I was at a shoe store yesterday and I passed by the section of the kids' department with dance shoes: tiny ballet slippers and tap shoes. Thinking about a raising a little girl- one who, like all little girls, will take ballet lessons and perform at dance recitals- made me so happy. Belle's just a baby now, but she will soon be a little girl. She'll wear pig tails in her hair and skip when she's happy and draw hearts with her crayons, and she'll wear a pair of those tiny ballet slippers I saw yesterday when she takes ballet lessons and performs in dance recitals.
How wonderful it will be to raise little baby girl Belle.
(CraI'm sure I would have written a similar post if we had a baby boy and I walked by a little league game in Central Park)
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