While eating breakfast this morning and admiring the fresh-cut flowers at the table, I made a stark realization.
The baby I’m having in a few weeks might not look anything like I’ve imagined her to look.
Ever since I learned that I’m having a girl, I’ve been daydreaming about the perfect genetic combination of Hunt and Teague. This basically means curly auburn red hair, perfect skin, bright blue eyes, and an hourglass figure. Really, something like this:
Imagining a perfect-looking child is a dangerous game and I’ve already rolled the dice.
I don’t know how to get out of it now. I’m going to try to spend the next few weeks thinking “ugly” thoughts about the baby. Like a girl with thin wimpy hair (like me). Or a recessed chin. Or not having defined waist or hips as a woman. Having one blue eye and one brown one. Having some sort of disease where she can’t grow any teeth. Resembling a squirrel. Having acne so badly that she has to go into hiding from age 13-16.
I’m hoping that by imagining the worst, even if she has one lame trait (like my lame hair), I won’t be angry about it. This morning when I imagined being handed my baby and not seeing red hair, my first reaction was to say, “Oh no! Look at your stupid hair! NOW what are we going to do?!??” Not exactly the picture of a nurturing mother.
I’ve been praying for three things for baby girl all along: 1.) that she be mentally and physically healthy 2.) that she lives her life for Jesus 3.) that she has JB’s beautiful hair.
We’ll see if I can go 3 for 3.
If not, I’ll try my best to bite my tongue.
