The girl on the right

I remember the day I found out that Gia was going to be a girl. It was a good day. It was the news I was hoping for. I already had my boy at home, and who doesn’t want one of each? Our family was complete, just how I pictured it.

For the next 20 weeks, I shopped for pink.

I couldn’t get enough ‘girl talk’. I welcomed the insight of others, reflecting on their own experiences with raising a daughter – what it looked like, what it felt like, what it sounded like.  Even perfect strangers were ready with their own unique findings and personal observations.

But really, there was nothing unique. Over the weeks I would hear a lot of the same. The differences in raising boys and girls was made quite clear.

“Girls are so much less active and rowdy than boys…”  “They play calmly and quietly.”

“Girls are so much less messy and dirty than boys…”  “They keep things neat and like to be clean.”

“Girls are so much more fun to shop for than boys…”  “They wear pretty dresses and fun little skirts.”

And of course there’s my favorite…

“Girls develop so much earlier than boys…”  “They talk sooner and mature faster.”

Well this was great – I had a plan – I love to have a plan! Before she was even born, I knew exactly who Gia was going to be. So I boxed her up in a pretty little package with a big, huge, sparkly bow on it. She was going to fit perfectly.

It was about three years old when Gia ripped off that bow, punched her way out of the box and dusted off the sparkles.

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Okay. It’s cool. I can go along with this. I didn’t really like bows that much anyway.

So I went with it, but was determined to figure her out.

Hmmm…what kind of box shall I try next…

So I tried every box I could come up with. I tied them with ribbon this time. No bows. Definitely no sparkle.

No, Gia? Okay. It’s cool. I just won’t curl the ribbon this time. It still looks pretty.

But no…

So I moved on to some new boxes, different shapes this time. I’ve got it! Twine! Maybe she’s a twine kinda girl. I like twine. It even comes in pink.

No, Gia? Okay. It’s cool. We can do the brown twine.

But no…

Here we are, two years later, and there’s not a box that could fit that girl. I searched far and wide. It doesn’t exist. As it turns out – she isn’t what ‘they’ told me she would be.

She’s actually so much cooler…

She chose a Spiderman Build-A-Bear – gave it a Minion voice – brought it home in a pink backpack.

When she’s done eating, you wonder if she got any in her mouth.

Her imagination will take her from ‘playing school’ to ‘ninja warriors’. She goes on bear hunts daily – sometimes with a “baby in her belly”.

She changes 5 times a day – I find outfits strewn about the house.

Elsa is her idol. Supergirl is her alter ego.

She hates dresses. Don’t get her started on skirts. But she’ll accessorize a t-shirt and jeans like nobody else.

Her energy never burns – she’s full of second winds.

She lives for the outdoors, the rain, the cold weather, the accessories that go with it.

Hand her a barbie and she’ll tear it limb from limb. Hand her a baby doll and she’ll nurture it like a fragile piece of glass.

She “booty dances” consistently throughout the day.

Her room has to be as pink as I can make it. It’s blinding.

And she has a speech disorder called apraxia. I didn’t hear the word “mom” until she was three years and one month old.

She’s also one of the happiest people I know.

Funny enough, I was a lot like Gia at her age. I decapitated every barbie I owned. I was a messy eater, and walked around with mystery stains on my shirts. I left a disaster everywhere I went. I’d lean back in my chair at the dinner table and fall to the ground, hitting my head – get myself up and did it all over again. I was carefree and clumsy.

I was an athlete. I preferred sneakers to high heals. I felt so uncomfortable in dresses. I probably would have worn jeans to the Prom if I could. Shopping was the WORST. I don’t ever remember liking the colors pink and purple. I was always more of a yellow and orange kinda girl.

But somewhere along the way, I wedged myself back into ‘the box’ – it’s pretty cramped in here.

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See that girl right smack-dab in the middle?

She’s the one looking desperately at her dance instructor for guidance. She refuses to raise her left arm until she knows exactly what it takes to create the perfect Plie. She carefully studies the movement in her head, coming up with every possible scenario that could lead her to failure.

She’s the one that looks confused and a little insecure – but boy is she determined. That girl is motivated. She will nail that Plie if it’s the last thing she does. Nothing will stop her – but boy is she guarded.

She’s the one beating herself up, but refusing to give up. She wants to be the best, but really, she just wants to blend in. But if she doesn’t stand out, she’s doing something wrong.

That’s me. I’m that girl.

I strive to join Gia on the right. She invites me everyday. It looks more fun over there.

 

 

Dear Gia

Dear Gia,

Daddy and I just dropped you off – it’s your first day of Kindergarten.

Right about now I’m supposed to say, “That just flew by!”, or “Where did the time go?”. But I’d be lying if I said those words – I’d be trying to blend in with the other parents. We didn’t get to take the path where time flies. Our path was long and uphill, with a lot of rough terrain.

But you know what, Gia? You did it. You earned your spot in that classroom. I couldn’t have done this for you. I couldn’t have gotten you here on my own. I gave you the boat, but it was your job to paddle. You’ve worked tirelessly for every word you have. Every. Single. Word. From therapy, to doctors, to preschool and back – your work never stopped.

And you know something else, Gia? You never complained about it. Not once.

I’ve spent the last two years advocating in your fight to be heard. It’s been really hard. At times it had more ups and downs than mommy could take. But it was your attitude that kept me going. It was your strength that pulled me forward.

Now here I am, sitting in an empty house, feeling a little lost without you. I miss you deeply. My calendar looks so empty. It’s been you and me against apraxia. We’re a team…I feel like I’ve lost my partner.

I’ll be honest though, Gia…I’m a little tired. I could really use a break. A nap sounds kinda nice. A pedicure sounds even nicer. I could use some lunch dates with daddy and some morning coffee with your Aunt Trish.

So today is bitter sweet. It’s a day I’ve both feared and looked forward to.

I did everything I could to get you ready for this moment. But today, as we made our way up to your new school, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done enough. With your hand in mine, we walked into a classroom full of Kindergarteners. My head was spinning with questions I felt desperate to know the answer to – will your peers understand you? Accept you? Make fun of you? Will you struggle with Reading? Writing? Dyslexia?

Did I do enough?

In your own little way, you brought me peace and turned off all the noise. You looked so at home in that classroom – so happy and self-assured – so ready. It was clear, you were right where you wanted to be – where you needed to be.

So I grabbed your heart-shaped little face, looked you right in those big blue eyes and said goodbye with a kiss. I slowly made my way out the door, watching you as I left. But I couldn’t leave just yet. I needed just one last picture. So with camera in hand, I ran back to greet you at your desk. But you, Gia, you greeted me back with exactly the words I needed to hear…

“Mom, you gotta go!”

I’m so proud of you, Gia. Today is your day!

Love,
Mommy

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