I am a mother to two girls. They are made up of everything I didn’t know I could dream.

I always thought I’d have boys. Before I was a mother, I was a teacher and each year, I’d grvitate towards the little bruisers that had dirt under their fingers and raspy voices – counting down the minutes to recess. Those rough and tumble kids were my favorites.

And then I became pregnant and we dreamed up names for our boy. I was certain that we’d have a dirty, hilarious little boy.

Maverick.  We thought we’d name him Maverick. Or maybe Miles.

We loved those names for a boy. For our boy.

We learned we were having a girl.  A marvelous girl.  After being shocked for a minute, we dug in and found a name that would be for our first daughter. And it fit her perfectly.

We put Miles and Maverick, the names, on the someday shelf.

Years later, we discovered we were pregnant (again!) with another girl (yahoo!!).

We let the Maverick and Miles names go for good, because we were d-o-n-e making babies.

But here we are.

A new baby, so to speak.

And when I think about Miles & Maverick, the names and this space, I can’t help but chuckle to myself about what might have been, but also to think about the different meaning of those names.

Miles. For all the places we’ve been and where we’re headed.

Maverick. For how we’re different, unique and utterly badass.