“We have to have a serious talk with your parents about pink.” We were leaving the clinic after the confirmation: by some time in late December, we’ll have a daughter — Lena Maria.
For months now, she has been an “it.” Rather, we’ve referred to Lena as “Bączek.” “Little fart” in Polish. “This means she is no longer ‘It,'” I thought, when the ultrasound technician said, almost immediately, “It’s a girl.”
“It’s a girl,” and the name dilemma washed away. “Lena” has been our choice for a girl for some time, but for a boy — nothing. Kinga had plenty of ideas, but for some reason, none of them made me feel much of anything. “Lena,” though, has such a warmth, a strength, a beauty to it that I liked it immediately.
“She” means directions and details for the dreaming that were never contained in “it”. Vague imaging becomes focused. At some point, she will break some boy’s heart. At some point, her heart will be broken. She will have a favorite book and a favorite game. She will come to me one day, crying with a childhood injury. At some point, I might find myself dancing with her at her wedding. Yet these thoughts are all so distant that they’re just as unrealistic as when we knew nothing more than the potential: “I’m pregnant,” Kinga whispered in my ear one morning, many weeks ago…