Since the looming black balloon that has lingered over our heads like a cloud of anxiety for the first four months of my wife’s second pregnancy rained pink confetti, I’ve wanted to write this post.
But…I’m kind of speechless.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled!
I just have no idea what I’ll become on May 31st, when I’m holding a baby girl–my little girl–my angel–my sweetheart–my flower–my princess.
I have a prince, and I love him more than my entire kingdom, and my queen is the most elegant in the land, but this news of a young maiden who will glide into this world daintily (like all little girls must) makes me shiver.
A father of a girl?
I have visions of playing dolls, braiding hair, having tea parties, collecting princesses and pink things, dancing in tutus, riding on unicorns, taking her on father-daughter dates, passing the parenting baton to Lindsey for puberty talks, meeting her boyfriends, killing her boyfriends, eyeing the one that survives, walking her down the aisle, and looking at her beauty to see her mother and I reflected…
There’s a good chance I just described a mythical creature. I wouldn’t know.
I don’t know how to parent a daughter anymore than I know how to parent my son or even myself! One kid makes you a baby-daddy, but two? Two makes you a father.
I was afraid to have a son, but the fear of having a girl crawls on the spine.
Still, I do know this, and am comforted by it:
She will be my princess, and Isaiah will be my prince. Lindsey and I will love them the same, but differently. Uniquely. Individually. We will love each as they are.
And our kingdom will be rich with affection.