Two girls that started out looking just alike on a grainy, black-and-white ultrasound screen. Two girls that will be unique in every way imaginable, no matter whose hair or nose she has.
Two girls to share clothes and hand-me-downs. Two chances to get my $35 out of that 6-12 month Hanna Andersson holiday dress.
Two little voices asking for us in the middle of the night. Two whispers snickering together while they're supposed to be sleeping. Two comrades plotting against us. Two friends to keep each other company.
Two mops of hair to tame every morning with ribbons or clips. Two Easter dresses and two Christmas dresses every year. Maybe one day, two flower girls.
Two girls to teach how to not throw like a girl. Two ponytails in baseball caps.
Two girls to talk to about puberty, which isn't such a big deal, it's more the idea of two teenage girls at the same time for many, many years that's a bit intimidating.
Two girls to set rules about piercing ears and painting nails and dating and shaving legs.
Two girls and one chance to make sure I give them the proper environment and philosophy that allows them to have a healthy body image.
Two girls to take to the makeup counter so they can learn proper application technique and not look like hookers who learned everything they know about eyeliner from the woman at the 24-hour Walgreen's.
Two girls to take for proper bra fittings because you'd better believe I won't let them start out wearing an ill-fitting bra, which is one of the worst things a woman can unwittingly do to herself.
Two smallish sedans parked outside the house in 2027, with two new drivers with nearly zero experience behind the wheel and...actually, maybe I'll just make them walk everywhere.
Two girls to set curfews for. One girl to explain how she is two years younger than the other and thus curfew is not the same time.
Two girls to tell to "Put a sweater on over that!" or "Young lady, you are NOT leaving the house in that outfit."
Two girls that will exclaim about and steal from my now-vintage wardrobe by the time they're teenagers. (Mom! These skinny jeans are SO RETRO!)
Two girls to teach how to protect themselves in dark parking lots at night. Two girls to worry about. Two girls to be proud of.
Two girls to pass my jewelry on to. Two girls to tell stories to about their great-great-grandmother and what a classy lady she was.
Two beautiful smiles in our Christmas cards, that will turn from the toothy grins of children to confident smiles of young women far sooner than anyone expects (or is ready for) them to.
I'll be the mother of two brides. Chris will have two father-daughter dances.
Two girls to take care of us when we're older.
Girls. Our girls.