We're all somebody's daughter, but do you ever stop & dream about your own daughter? Whether or not the Goddess has gifted you with a daughter yet, do you ever daydream about her? What is she like? Does she look like you? Do you hope to be that kick ass mom that everyone on the block loves? Do you already have the sex talk in your head? How does it relate to your mom?

oh. what a question. the crazy part about this is that while i haven't wanted children since i became a thinking adult, i have always known that if i had any, i wanted the first (perhaps only) to be a girl.

on valentine's day years back, i found out i was pregnant. i didn't know how to feel. i was 14. my boyfriend was in training school, which meant i saw him for a couple days a month and mostly subsisted off letters that i had to hide from my mother. my mother despised my boyfriend. my boyfriend's mother despised me.

so when i found out i was pregnant i had no idea what i would do. my mother raised me to believe that my future was one surrounded by kids. she forced this on me, however she did so in a round about way. pediatrician, elementary school teacher, day care provider. she led me to believe these were the careers i'd want. so, i thought i must like children. knowing that i was pregnant, even at such a young age, i began to think of all the scenarios that could make a child work.

but those were bittersweet fantasies. i was shakingly relieved when my mother gave me the ultimatum: abortion or else. threatening to make me leave my home and family if i dared bring more "shame" on their heads by giving birth. so, while some small part of me winced at the decision, the larger part of me celebrated my escape from imminent doom.

yet, what remained, even after the abortion, were these dreams of my unborn child. see, in my head, that child was a girl. i know now that most likely i'd have birthed a boychild as that boyfriend now has three boychildren and no girls. and his brother has a boychild. and his cousins all had boys. but, in my head, that baby was a girl with long wavy dark hair and large brown eyes.

i used to picture us. me and that girlchild. living together on a houseboat. walking together. dancing together. talking, laughing, crying together. i pictured her always as a four or five year old, her dark eyes large with excitement and discovery as she drank in the world. i imagined her safe within me, bringing to life the innocence i lost so long ago.

almost two years ago, i almost had a girlchild. not in the same way, though. my sister was pregnant and nearing her due date. she had already gone through the paperwork and procedure for putting her child up for adoption. i, for whatever reasons, couldn't allow this to happen. i convinced her to give me this child and allow me to raise it as its mother. this took much lying and melodrama, but it worked.

this baby was a girl. my other sister mailed me the ultrasound (which she fished out of the trash without my sis finding out). i poured over it. i knew what i was looking at. i talked to my sister after her doctors appointments. i knew that this child would be a girl. i named her khira magdalene.

when my sister went into labor i was right there. her boyfriend held her hand while i helped with her legs. when the baby crowned, i cried out with fear and anticipation. the doctor laughed and said "He's on his way!" HE?

that's right. my baby girl was born a boy. my sister apologized effusely through her sedatives and pain. i quietly opened my arms to the nurse and took the wailing red bundle. he was so little, so beautiful. i named him javier stone, a strong name with a strong background. family names to welcome this child to our fold.

all my disappointment over not having a little girl washed away from me. it didn't leave me - that aching desire to see myself in a little girl's face is still there - but i've realized that i have a greater legacy. i must now teach this little boy to be kind and respectful. i must teach him to love rather than hate, and to inquire rather than assume.

i dream about that little girl sometimes, but she is older, wiser. she understands things i have not yet said. if i have a child, i hope that it is a girl. i know why now. i want to give myself another chance. i want to guide my young self through a life not stacked with pain and danger. i want to see her grow the way i should have, strong and confident and secure and safe. i want her to have my hair and my eyes, but i will not give her my burdens. i want her to have a chance at life that was never extended to me.

i dream of girlbabies. i dream of myself and a soul birthed without fear, bathed only in love.