My mother-in-law insisted on finding out the sex of the baby to plan the baby shower, and we agreed to go get an ultrasound at 7 months. At first my husband and I said we would not find out, but once there, decided we wanted to know. The ultrasound technician said the baby was going to be a boy–“90% probability.” He showed us what seemed to be testicles but, in fact, were swollen labia.
The day baby girl Nikte (Mayan for flower) was born my mother-in-law ran to the store to get her pink blankets and ruffled items of clothing, and so did everyone else once they found out he turned out to be a she. When we got home we had to decide what to discard from her arsenal of clothing from the baby shower–goodbye puppies, cars, trucks and baseball caps, and hello flowers, hearts and butterflies.
As a Mexican, I do plan to pierce her ears. I have procrastinated because I’m indecisive about where to get it done and am dreading her inevitable misery the rest of the day and night.I know it will hurt her now less than later and she’ll be able to wear earrings later on…if she wants. I don’t wear any, in fact, I hardly ever do. Growing up with an ultra feminine mom, I rebelled in my teenage years by wearing extra large clothes that hid my female figure. I admit I was embarrassed of my big breasts, which I now appreciate much more. They have become more than just sexy to me after breastfeeding my baby.
I’m all about embracing womanhood, and I even got my baby some cute little bows–but they kept slipping off. I stopped putting them on her, and those cute little head bands fall off her as well. She’s got this cute spiked up hair without the need of gel or hairspray which my husband loves because it matches his mohawk. We are at peace with her hair, but the most ridiculous thing I heard was putting toothpaste on her hair so the bow stays. She’s cute anyway, and I agree putting a bow would make her look even cuter, but I’m not putting toothpaste on her hair just so she can satisfy the gender stereotype that society requires.
She’s only three months old, and I’m trying to let her be as free as possible before she needs to fulfill all those set perceptions about being a woman. Maybe she will choose not to fulfill them at all, and that’s totally fine with me. It took me years to finally embrace flowers, the color pink and girly stuff (my favorite color is still blue). Being a woman is a wonderful thing, and it’s not just something that’s defined between the legs. Ultimately, it’s not up to the world or even me to define what it means to be a woman for her.