I was not ready for a little girl.
Nothing against little girls or women, I mean...I married a woman. (An amazing woman at that.) Even my mom, she’s a woman. I got nothing against women. I think they’re great!
But, I wasn’t ready for a little girl.
My wife found out she was pregnant within ten minutes of us returning from a hospital stay with my then one-year-old son, Charlie. We were both pretty surprised, to say the least. I remember watching my little boy push his cozy coupe and holding my wife as she cried feeling a little overwhelmed at the news of our pregnancy.
I just knew the baby was going to be another boy.
Nothing against little girls, I just knew, in my heart, it was a boy.
I was already picturing my son, Charlie, playing on the football field and baseball diamond with his brother. One of them playing shortstop while the other played second base. One of them taking the snap under center at quarterback and slinging it downfield to their brother catching it for a touchdown. I could see the wrestling matches in the living room. I could see them throwing the ball together in the yard.
I just knew the baby was going to be a boy.
Well...I knew it was a boy right up to the point when I found out the baby wasn’t a boy.
The baby, in fact, was a girl.
The moment the sonographer said she was a girl, something happened in me. I, myself, was a boy. My son was a boy. I knew about boys. I knew what was to come. A boy was going to be rough and rowdy. A goy was going to get dirty outside while playing in the dirt. A boy was going to fall in love and get his heart broke in two. A boy was going to drive his truck a little too fast and get a speeding ticket. A boy was going to yell at his daddy and think he knew it all. I knew what to expect when it came to my little boy.
I realized just how unprepared I was for a little girl.
I was not ready for a little girl.
During the next few months, I tried to prepare myself for her arrival. Where his room was tractors and trucks, her room was flowers and teddy bears. Where his clothes were police outfits and sports jerseys, her’s were pink and purple frilly things. Where he had hats in his closet, she had a bucket full of hairbows and headbands.
I was not ready for a little girl.
I was not ready for a little girl; that is until that little girl arrived. I did not know that I could love a little girl so much until I held her in my arms. My little Ruby was so precious. Her hands were so tiny as they wrapped around my finger. Every feature was beautiful.
Holding her in my arms I felt a new sense of fatherhood. Yes, I already had a child, a son. He would need his father and he would grow up looking up to me. But, to this little girl, I would be her first love. I would be the first ‘man’ in her life. It was my responsibility to show her how a man could and should love her. That's a lot of weight to carry.
Was I ready for this?
Was I ready to be a daddy to a little girl?
Suddenly my heart swelled with pride as I envisioned daddy-daughter dances, me taking her on dates in her early teens, and walking her down the aisle on the day of her wedding. There was nothing at that moment I wanted more than to be her father. She was mine and I was hers. My heart was literally stolen away by a little girl who’d I never even expected would be.
I was not ready for a little girl and the effect that she would have on her daddy.
As I’ve watched her grow these past two years, I am exceedingly proud of and grateful for her. I’ve learned to brush her hair and put it up in a ponytail. You laugh, but putting a two-year-old’s hair in a ponytail should be an Olympic sport. Not only does it take skill, but it also requires patience and perseverance.
Her ability to speak is growing every day. I’m not ashamed to say that we practice saying “I love you daddy” a little more than counting to ten. I also may ask for kisses in turn for snacks, getting toys in hard to reach places, and for help putting on shoes. I’ll take a kiss from Ruby anytime I can get one.
Although I was not ready for a little girl, I am so blessed to now have one. I cannot and do not want to begin to imagine life without her sweet smiles, scrunchy faces, and silly talk.
Thank God above for my little girl that I never expected would be.
Happy Fryeday!
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