Girl Mom Problems.

I’ll never forget the feeling in my body when I found out that my first (and only) natural born child would be a girl. I was driving to meet my then-husband for lunch when the call came in, and quickly pulled off the road into a parking lot to take the call - not because I’m an uber-careful driver, but because something told me I’d need to brace myself for the news.

The news of which chromosomal pair my body was cooking up sent shockwaves through my body. Almost like they describe in a near-death experience, I saw my entire childhood flash before my eyes - and I was heartbroken.

Not because I didn’t want a girl, but because I didn’t want my girl to experience the kind of childhood I had been forced to survive.

Like any mom, I wanted better for her than had been given to me. But all I could do in that moment was cry.

I cried for myself - for all of the pain that bubbled up to the surface in the moment of that phone call.

I cried for the little girl I once was - for the pain I suffered and the childhood I was robbed of.

I cried for my little girl - just 11 weeks old and roughly the size of a lime - for all of the ways in which I wanted to protect her and show her a life more beautiful than I could have dreamed of for myself as a child.

I cried. I cried. I cried.