I was with Ashley at her ultrasound appointment when the technician asked if we wanted to know the sex of our second baby. We didn’t think we would be able to find out yet, but we were eager to know the answer.
Boy or girl we would be very happy. We figured if we had a boy, the baby could wear a lot of Noah’s old clothes and play with his toys. They could grow up as close buddies and share friends since they would be less than two years apart. If we had a girl we would have one boy and one girl. Throw in our dog, Noelle, and we would be the stereotypical suburban American family. We only wanted to have two kids, so we thought it would be great if we had one of each. We thought it would be nice having the boy being older so he could keep an eye on her in school and keep the boys at bay.
When the ultrasound technician told us we were having a girl we instantly celebrated together. I was extra happy because I knew that if we had a boy and a girl we would be done having kids. I was pretty sure I couldn’t handle more than two. I figured if we had two boys there could be a chance that Ashley would eventually push for trying once more to see if we could have a girl.
We couldn’t be happier when Charlotte finally arrived. Ashley was my queen and we now had our little princess. I didn’t care that there was already a real Princess Charlotte in Europe, we had our own.
There was something special about having a little girl. For the first few months there are few differences between a boy baby and a girl baby besides what’s underneath the diaper. You wipe them differently, but what else is there? The clothes they wear, I guess. But there was still something else.
I was nervous about having a baby girl. I had a handful of nieces, but I still felt rather clueless as far as little girls go. I figured I’d manage ok, but it was sure to be quite a learning process.
From the beginning, I was very protective of my baby girl. I carefully watched everyone around her. I was protective of Noah, too, but I feel like I was automatically more so for my daughter. If she cried I tried to be instantly at her side with anything she needed.
We took her and Noah to Ashley’s school for its Fun Day, when she was five or six weeks old, to meet some teachers. When we there a young autistic kid hit Charlotte right in the face as his way of saying “hello.” I nearly tossed the kid across the room, but then I realized it must not have been too hard since Charlotte didn’t even wake up. I likely would have gotten into some trouble, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t do anything.
I look forward to watching my baby grow into a girl, but watching her grow into a woman can wait. I’m not looking forward to the boys that will come around wanting to date my princess. I’ll have to develop a mean streak by then and sit on the front porch holding a baseball bat or something.
I may not be able to protect my little princess all of the time, but I will certainly give it my best shot. I hope that she’ll be a daddy’s girl. Maybe she’ll have a little tomboy in her when she’s young and she can enjoy watching football, playing basketball, and hiking with me and Noah. If not, that’s ok, too. I’ll protect and support my princess in whatever she wants to do.