The Trouble with Little Girls..

Out here, the weather has turned springlike. The trees and flowers are abloom. The air smells fresh, warm, fragrant, with that hint of winter crisp still. As the seasons turn, I am reminded of the time... I don't count the months anymore like I did in that first year, but it startles me when a new season brings about that season's worth of grief. I was thinking today about how, in a distant spring 3 years past, I was blissfully pregnant with a little girl. I remember wearing this one pink maternity dress and cute matching sandals while chasing my son around the preschool garden. I was pregnant with a little girl. I wanted to look a little girly on the outside. I had about 6 weeks to go until I met her. But I had already conjured up a lifetime of being a mother to a little girl in my mind.

I am still trying to process these feelings. Why is it so important for me to have a little girl? Do I want to have a little version of myself? Maybe partly.
But maybe the deeper truth, if I am honest with myself, is that I want to be the mother to a little girl to do things differently than my mother.
Both of my parents worked full time. I remember envying a one of the girls I went to grammar school with because her mom was home all the time. She took us shopping, even shopping for girl things like bras! She was our girl scout leader. She helped us understand what was going to happen to our bodies before it did. She was the carpool too and from volleyball practice. She was the art docent in my classroom. And while I realize I can do most of these things for my boys, some of it will just be different.
I'll probably leave the body discussion to my husband. Not having brothers, I only have a textbook idea of what happens as they hit puberty. And I doubt they will want to go bra shopping, or maybe even shopping in general. I won't be able to do their hair in long braids and french braids and pig tails like my mother did for us. I won't be able to gossip about what boys like who and whatnot.
Maybe my very idea of motherhood has always been a hybrid of these two women: my mother, and my friend's mother. And how they responded to their girls.
I hate to even type this but maybe it's slightly good that Jessica isn't here (of course I'd want her here), but maybe there would be too much pressure on her to be the perfect daughter and for us to have the perfect mother-daughter relationship that I feel I didn't get to have with mine. Don't get me wrong, my relationship with my mother is so much better now that I have my own family and she is great with the kids. There are just so many things I didn't share with her when I was younger. And part of it was probably because I was angry with her for not being there, especially when things were shitty. I couldn't go to her for boyfriend advice because I wasn't ever really allowed to date until junior or senior year in high school. I had to sneak out and do things in secret but since both my parent's weren't around, it wasn't the hard. On a side note, I think it's funny when some people perceive that the 'time to be home' with their kids is the younger years, when in reality, they would probably have a better eye on things if they were home with teenagers.
But is this wrong to want to fix things by doing things differently with a daughter?
I feel I have tried to let go of this idea, but obviously it is still there, compounded by the fact that I had a girl but she died. I remember the relief and joy I felt that I was having a girl. I know girls. With my sister and I, it's the only thing I know. And while I'll be the best mom to my little boys that I can be, I'm on uncharted territory.
...do I have to let go of the dream, really? Is it unhealthy to cling to these thoughts? I guess we'll see. It is what it is.