I was convinced number 3 would be our third boy. Utterly convinced. Partly because I’m a glass-half-empty kind of person when it comes to certain things. I don’t like to get my hopes up. I prefer this so that I can be pleasantly surprised when life does go my way.
So when we were looking at the genetic testing results, and my husband pointed out, “Look at the thingy, look at the thingy!!!” while jumping up and down ecstatically, I was confused. What thingy? It took me a good 30 seconds to realize he was referring to the gender/sex symbol for female…you know the little stick figure head and body with just arms? And then we had to read it 30934809 times just to be sure our eyes saw it right.
I dreamed of having a mini my whole life, and knowing my husband and I had agreed 3 was our magic number, I had kind of prepared myself for another boy so that my gender disappointment (real thing..look it up!) would be minimal. (DON’T GET ME WRONG! WE WOULD HAVE LOVED A BOY, TOO.)
She literally is my bow. She was the perfect little gift to complete our family, wrapped up and delivered at just the right time.
Side note. I’m also actually obsessed with bows for two reasons:
- They’re cute and can make (or break!) an outfit. I usually have one guilty shopping pleasure with all my kids – Dominic had something like 62 pairs of sweatpants in size 6-9 months…don’t ask me why sweatpants were my thing with him. My guilty shopping pleasure with Tessa? BOWS. I’m pretty sure she has over 100. Maybe I’ll count one of these days. And I really hope Mike isn’t reading this post.
- I’ve gotten scoffed at before when I talk about my bow obsession – mostly because others sometimes see it as representative of a traditional girly girl. But I believe a girl can wear a bow AND be a strong, compassionate, and independent woman. (And if she doesn’t want to wear a bow at age 2 or 20, she doesn’t have to.)