A little more than two years ago, a baby train came trucking through our family and our group of friends, and since then we've welcomed 13 babies into our lives—each one giving me a perfect excuse to troll the baby section at Target without looking too pathetic. Out of 13 babies we have welcomed 13 boys. NO. LIE. What are the odds of that? No, really, what are they? I'm just horrible with statistics. Now, you should know, I'm a huge fan of baby boys. In all honesty, if someone floated down from above and gave me the option of having a healthy baby boy or a healthy baby girl (no discerning differences whatsoever), I would choose a boy. (Even though, HA!, no-one seems interested in making me that offer.) (Also, Mike and I cannot agree on a boy's name TO SAVE OUR LIVES but we have two [TWO!] girls names we love. That's ironic, isn't it?) There is just something about the way a little boy loves his mother or how floppy a little boy's hair is or their energy, smell, smile, and I physically feel that I'll mother a boy one day. Obviously this feeling has led me to adore each and every baby boy in my life—my nephews, especially. But, it became almost comical, how void of little girls our lives had become.
About three months ago, Crystal—one of my best friends and, if you remember, the reason I have a ridiculously hard-to-pronounce last name—and I had dinner, as we do quite often. And, as I was rattling on about this or that (most likely how Mike records 27 of the same Survivorman episode and ha ha I kind of want to punch him in the head when he does that), she interjected to tell me she and her new husband were expecting a baby.
Yesterday she told me they are expecting a baby girl.
I finally get my girl—to shop for, to fuss over, to spoil, to babysit—and if you know Crystal, if you've ever been lucky enough to spend even a minute with her, you'll know what a perfect mother she will be to an adorable, dressed-all-in-pink, sweet baby girl.
When you surround yourself with good people, their joys become your joys. It's the true beauty of life—that when you do it just right, every happiness is multiplied and every grief is divided. As your friend's heart grows to encompass all the good in her life, yours grows as well. As you watch her dreams come true, it's almost as if yours are coming true, too. Because you want—that deeply—for someone else's happiness.
Crystal, I love your daughter already. (Molly is a bit concerned you won't have time for hugs now, but I assured her there was—say it with me!—always time for hugs. She'll need you to convince her of that next time she sees you.)
And, Internet, look how cute this kid is going to be:
