It's A Boy

I've been hesitant to write this post, so instead I've been writing nothing because this subject has been weighing so heavily on my heart, I can't imagine staying genuine while posting anything else. It would feel like the ultimate in social media falsehood to post anything about our summer adventures, or our preparations for the impending 'back to school' season or even fun facts and pictures of our growing family (and my growing tummy).

Because one thought keeps running around in my head; one google search has dominated my web browser; and one topic keeps bubbling to the surface, only to be choked back by a false smile and quick laugh followed by reassuring words chosen to convince myself as much as others about how content I am.

First of all, please know that it is not lost on my how blessed I am; how lucky. I see people that I love so deeply struggle to start a family or navigate loss after loss and my heart breaks for them. I am filled with gratitude every day for my children. Every baby that has come to me has filled me with the kind of love that is surprising--until they handed me that first baby, I never knew a human had that kind of capacity for love.

It's essential love, of course, because honestly if mamas didn't love their babies that fiercely, babies wouldn't make it. I've had eight things thrown at me just today. And last night I stepped in someone's pee because making it into the toilet doesn't rank super high on the priority list of a couple of my roommates. Who, incidentally eat all my groceries, color on the walls, poop in things I buy and don't even pay rent.

...I digress.

My children are my favorite. Don't try and approach that idea using logic because it's really confusing. I don't know how I can love them so thoroughly when they torture me so regularly, but there it is.

And here's the thing: I love this baby I'm growing. Or I anticipate the love I'll have for him. Because I know it now. I know what's coming. I know they'll hand me this wrinkled, smelly, screaming lump of flesh and my whole being will suddenly need to comfort him and make him understand how loved and safe he is and I'll whisper "Hi, baby! Hi. Mama is right here. It's okay, I'm here." over and over and over until his crying slows and he just lays his head on my chest and breaths in my scent and knows that everything will be alright because his mama has him.

I can't wait.

This is (probably*) the last time I'll have that experience.

And (deep breath)

It's a boy.

My fourth boy, to be precise. My fourth bouncing, energetic, twinkle-eyed, adventurous, out-door loving, mama adoring, daddy worshiping little boy.


I've dreamed of daughters since I was a kid. I had a list of girl names and as I got older, the names changed but the gender didn't. I yearned for the frills and lace and bows and pink and nail polish. Early in my marriage, I created a board on Pinterest called "When I Have a Baby Girl" and pinned there frequently. Though, my pinning there started slowing after the third time I heard "it's a brother!" And now I passionately avoid that board. And I highly doubt I'll pin there again. I tried to delete it today, but couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

I've been reading articles by mamas with all boys, or mamas who've found out they're having their third, fourth, fifth boy in a row. And each of them were helpful, in a way. They were quick to point out the advantages (We have all the clothes and toys already. Less drama. Boys love their mamas. They are protectors by nature. Etc.) and the fun things (We're in a pretty unique club with other 'boy moms'. Brothers are fun to watch. Sports!) and the things to look forward to (Grown men take wonderful care of their mothers. Missions. Daughters-in-law.) but none of them quite hit the mark for me.

I'm glad those women are so fully focused on all the positive parts of having all boys. And trust, there are so many good things and parts of being a boy mom that I'm genuinely looking forward to. But my brain can't stay there yet. Because I'll finally think I'm settled there and then I see 'mommy and me apron sets' in Williams Sonoma and my stomach flips and I will myself not to cry in public while surrounded by expensive blenders. Or Pinterest suggests a pin with a pastel pink and crystal themed nursery and I click "not interested" while internally shouting about how interested I really am, so that I can try and correct the algorithm and avoid any future sighting. Or I scroll through facebook and see someone's precious baby girl with flowers in her hair and have to scroll a little faster so I won't think about what my little girl would look like with flowers in her hair.

Because there isn't a little girl for me.

I won't paint a sleeping newborn's fingernails. I won't buy tiny tights or peruse the girl's section in Target for pants with frills on the bum or newborn bows that are as big as her face. I won't have built in girls nights while the boys are at father-son's outing. I won't wear matching Easter dresses. I won't buy princess costumes or dress-up jewelry. I won't commiserate about periods or go bra shopping or share sweaters or steal her shoes.  I won't plan a wedding or go wedding dress shopping. And I won't be in the delivery room when my grand-babies are on their way.

And I just want it to be okay that the loss of those experiences is absolutely breaking my heart. I need to be sad for a while. I need to miss that little girl and grieve the loss of what she represented to me.


You know that part in Inside Out where Bing Bong is so sad because they've dumped his rocket and Joy is trying desperately to distract him with all her positive thinking and silly games and tickle fights? She just can't stand to let him grieve. But Sadness finally comes over to Bing Bong and sits next to him and says how sorry she is and how sad it is that they took his rocket from him. She lets him talk about his memories with Riley and how much he misses her and how sad he is that she's forgetting him and moving on. And she lets him cry.

My internal monologue is Joy. I bounce around from thought to thought and point out all the reasons why everything is going to be okay; why there's no reason to be sad; why I shouldn't even think about it if it makes me feel anything other than happiness. But I need Sadness right now. I need her to sit down next to me and let me talk about how sad it is that my girl isn't coming. And how much I miss her. And how confusing it is to miss someone I've never known. I need her to tell me that it IS sad and then just let me cry.

When that baby boy, that fourth boy, is put on my chest in January, my only emotion will be love. I won't be grieving a little girl, but will be rejoicing in my boy. I'll be overwhelmed with love and adoration for this new man in my life. And as I watch him grow, it'll be the same. I'll never look at him and wish he were anyone other than who he will be. I will love him completely and I'll wonder how I could ever picture my life without him. So I'll hold on to that hope while I grieve the loss of a future daughter, but I have to let the grief be okay.

For now.  



*I reserve the right to change my mind about the size of my family and not have to listen to anyone ask me if I know how birth control works