I really, really, really am happy about having boys. Truly. I had my weekend where I laid to rest the idea of Little Julia or Olivia, and I've chosen to move on. Now that I've held Joel, I'm in love. I would never trade him or Owen in for anything.
However...I do melt a bit when the girly world intersects with mine. For example, my friend, Jen, had her daughter in polka dotted tights. Oh. My. I. Was. Swooning. Easter dresses, Brownie uniforms, frilly swim suits...they all stir up, in the words of Lightening McQueen, "Feelings that I myself do not totally understand."
I'm not a girly girl myself, and I understand that clothes are mere window dressing, just fluff. I am, however, a confident woman. I survived adolescence and some of the less-than-stellar choices of my college years, and came out intact. I have the scars to prove it.
So, I regret the fact that I will never be able to talk to Julia or Olivia about inner strength, about confidence, about the power of being comfortable in one's own skin. I regret that these ghost daughters will never see me complete a race, take pride in my work, or walk confidently into a room.
I know that the flip side of this is that Owen and Joel will learn, from our example, what a loving marriage looks like. When they look for future partners in life, I hope that they see beyond the fluff and marry women who love themselves and expect their husbands to love and respect them unequivocally.
It's not so much the loss of a dream as the realization that the dream is just different.
That being said, I totally dressed up my two boys in matching green bear sweaters yesterday.