little girl mango

It started with dreams before she was even conceived. There had always been a little girl running around, or even a baby wrapped in a blanket--but I knew. I knew that whatever child I had first would be a girl. Mauricio and my mom also had dreams. Funny how it's all connected.

I bought little kid overalls for twenty cents last year with the intention of embroidering them with flowers. With little to no motivation, I started the project but never finished. They were going to be for Mauricio's niece, but they're definitely too small for her now. I suppose they were always meant for the little mango. I finished them the other night, Mauricio was baking bread, and I sat on our wood couch. I thought of all the times my mom had made me clothes. The many tantrums I threw in Hobby Lobby because I didn't like the way the stiff fabric felt. I remember asking if we could change out the handstitched quilt for a store bought, pink one. Oh, and the handmade "Vera Bradley" duffel bag my mom insisted on making.

As I pricked my finger with the needle multiple times and struggled to push it through the thick, denim overall I thought about those women who spent their time making me things. I thought about the countless hours they spent picking out fabrics, cutting, stitching, planning--all for me to prefer something that the other girls had. It made me laugh knowing that my daughter would probably go through the same cycle of hating my handmade imperfections, preferring store bought, and then later on appreciation.

After 24 years, the embroidered quilt makes its return to the bed, I ask my mom for homemade dresses, and I struggle making things for my own daughter. I understand now that these gifts are not only about the dress or blanket, but relationship. I want them part of my life, just as I want these women. So, as I threaded another color through the needle and began a knew flower, I prayed. I gave thanks for all of the people who gave me their time and gifts. I prayed that this little, growing human would be strong and healthy. I prayed for the mom I am growing into and will become. I prayed for Mauricio. I prayed until I finished.

Mauricio thought that some of the flowers looked like flies. That made me laugh even more. Apart from the overalls, I will be having the baby here in El Salvador (she will have both nationalities). The baby will know the heat of day & the chilly, rainy nights first. Long walks to the market. Naps in hammocks. Cobblestoned streets. The Spanish language spoken amongst the town. The smell of fresh baked bread made by dad. And all of the women who will be considered, "aunts" who have absolutely no blood relation.

Four more months of preparation, rest, and anticipation.

Love,

Claire