In early April, I went into the adoration chapel at our parish and knelt down in front of the monstrance. Immediately, a quiet voice called my name. It said, "You're pregnant. It's a girl."
I, alas, did not say, "Be it done unto me according to thy word." I said, "That is REE-diculous." I said, "I can't be pregnant. It's just not possible." By the time I left the chapel, I had persuaded myself that I had imagined the whole thing.
As I found out a few days later, I was pregnant. Today I learned that we're having a little girl. Also, that she is beautiful.
Having four boys attracts a fair amount of attention from strangers. They say, "All boys? Oh, you poor thing." I always lift my chin a little higher and say pleasantly, "I love having four boys." When they say, "Hope you get a girl this time," I say, "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with a little girl. And my boys are great." I always want to say, "I will delight in the children God has given me. I have been blessed beyond measure and I will welcome a fifth boy with open arms and a glad heart." --only a diatribe like that tends to put off random strangers at the library, so I just think it quietly instead.
But of course I'd know what to do with a little girl. We will have tea parties, with fairy cakes and finger sandwiches. I will knit her lacy socks and make her the prettiest First Communion dress you ever saw. Ruffled or plain, I'm on the job. We will read all the Anne books. Twice. And when we read the Little House series, we will talk about the fun stuff, like "Sunbonnets: Pros and Cons," and not the fine points of building a house without screws or nails.
She is only 11 ounces right now, so it will be awhile before she is interested in cucumber sandwiches. But just between you and me, internet, I've got plans for this little one.
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