**Diary Entry – 1st January**
On New Year’s Eve, as our family gathered around the festive table, my daughter Charlotte and her husband James surprised us. They pulled out an envelope revealing the gender of their baby—boy or girl. When they announced we’d be welcoming another granddaughter, I felt joy mixed with a flicker of surprise. Another girl in the family—no issue, right? Yet deep down, I wondered how this would change our lives.
My husband, Richard, and I always dreamed of a big family. Charlotte’s our only daughter, and when she married James, we couldn’t have been happier. They’re the perfect pair—Charlotte’s a primary school teacher, kind and nurturing, while James is a steady, dependable software engineer. Two years ago, they had their first baby, Emily, our little princess. She became the heart of our world—her first steps, words, and laughter filled our home with joy. Richard and I often visited, helping with the baby or taking Emily for weekends to give the young couple a break.
When Charlotte told us she was pregnant again, we were over the moon. Another granddaughter—or perhaps a grandson—didn’t matter, so long as the baby was healthy. But Charlotte and James turned the gender reveal into an event. They called it a “gender party”—a trendy thing I’d never heard of until then. The idea was to gather loved ones and open an envelope with the scan results. They chose New Year’s Eve to make it extra special.
The evening was magical. Their home glowed with fairy lights, the table laden with roast turkey, mince pies, and champagne. Emily dashed around the Christmas tree, chasing tinsel, while we laughed and toasted the year gone by. At eleven, Charlotte clapped her hands: “Time!” James brought out a white envelope tied with gold ribbon. Everyone fell silent—even Emily, as if sensing the moment’s weight.
With a smile, Charlotte began, “James and I are so happy we’ll soon be a family of four. And we want you to be the first to know who’s joining us.” James sliced the envelope open, and together they pulled out a card: *It’s a girl!* Charlotte laughed, James hugged her, and Emily clapped, though she likely didn’t understand. Richard and I exchanged glances and cheered. “Another girl! How lovely!” I said, embracing Charlotte.
Yet, I’ll admit—a thought crossed my mind: *Had they hoped for a boy?* I caught James’s quick smile, but his eyes held something else—disappointment? Or was I imagining it? Later, while clearing plates, I asked Charlotte, “Are you happy it’s a girl?” She nodded. “Mum, of course! Emily will have a sister—they’ll be best friends. And James already jokes about spoiling them both.” Her words soothed me, but I still wondered.
Richard and I never cared about gender—so long as a child was loved. But some parents do. James once mentioned wanting a son to kick a football around or tinker with cars. He adores Emily, braiding her hair with clumsy fingers, but perhaps he’d secretly hoped for a boy. And Charlotte? She’s always wanted a big family, but I’ve noticed her weariness—Emily’s still so young, demanding attention, and now another girl.
The next day, I spoke to Richard. Ever sensible, he said, “Margaret, what matters is they’re happy. Two girls—that’s wonderful. They’ll be close, like sisters should be.” But my thoughts lingered. I remembered expecting Charlotte—back then, there were no scans, no expectations, just joy at the thought of a child. Now? Gender parties, speculation, pressure. Maybe we overthink these things.
A week later, Charlotte called, discussing baby names. They’ve settled on Amelia. Emily, hearing about her sister, now asks daily when she’ll “arrive.” Charlotte laughs, insisting all’s well, but I catch the faintest strain in her voice. Pregnancy, raising Emily, work—it’s a lot. I offered to help more, take Emily at weekends. Charlotte agreed, and I breathed easier. I want her to know Richard and I are always here.
This New Year’s Eve will stay with me—not just for the news of another granddaughter, but for how it brought us closer. Watching Charlotte, James, and Emily, I thought: *What a remarkable family we have.* Yes, there’ll be sleepless nights, challenges—but also so much love. I can already picture two little girls racing through the house, giggling, squabbling, making up. And Richard and I will be there, steady as ever.
Another girl isn’t a problem—it’s a blessing. I know Charlotte and James will handle it, and we’ll do all we can to ease their way. And perhaps, next New Year’s, there’ll be another tiny princess at our table, bringing even more joy into our lives.
**Lesson today:** Family grows, love stretches, and every child—boy or girl—carries their own magic. Worry less, cherish more.
