I’m going to start with an apology. I’m so excited to meet you and I’m sorry I already haven’t paid as much attention to you. We moved to a new city when you were just 18 weeks in utero. I neglected my body and spirit while chasing after your older brother and finding our new home. I didn’t go to yoga or meditate and I ate at Taco Bell. I’m sorry. I hope you’re still doing alright in there.
I’m sorry and I’m scared. I want the world for you. I’m sorry and I’m afraid of the world I am bringing you in to. I want you to have the same opportunities as your brother to be whoever you want to be. I’m sorry you will be faced with endless reminders of your gender from the day of your birth when you get a pink hat placed on your head at the hospital and throughout your childhood when you’ll be presented with princesses and fairies and dolls as birthday gifts. I’m sorry that one day when you’re even older it won’t be safe for you to go out with your friends alone and it won’t be safe for you to make mistakes or let your guard down.
I want to teach you to be strong, independent and brave. I want to raise a feminist daughter that believes in herself and in others. I want you to develop a good inner moral compass that helps you make the right choices. But, I’m afraid I won’t know how.
I’m worried I will pass on some of my bad habits to you. Already I’m concerned you might get my Italian genes that will make you want to start waxing your eyebrows before high school. How can I teach you to not want to change yourself to fit someone else’s idea of beauty when I’m still trying to learn that myself?
Sometimes it’s hard to be a girl and sometimes it’s awesome. For example, I get to have you. I get to be your mother and I get to love you. All I can do is hope. Hope that you will love yourself as much as I love you. Hope that my best intentions will serve you well and help you grow into the woman you are meant to be. As we anxiously await your arrival, I can’t wait to find out who that is.