My Three Sons

"Trick or Tomato!" The boys practice trick-or-treating in the tomato plants...

When I started revealing my pregnancy, everyone--of course--sent girlie wishes my way. It's no secret that I want a daughter (or two...). I want to put bows in her hair and dress her in homemade skirts and colorful tights and fake uggs. I want to sign her up for ballet class and make her room look cuter than anything in the Land of Nod catalog. I want to talk to her about boys and virtue and qualities to look for in a husband. I want to help her plan her wedding.

BUT. When I got pregnant, although I knew I had a 50/50 chance, I didn't allow much thought like that. One day I went through the bin of girl clothes I've collected and almost threw up out of hope mixed with possible disappointment, so I put it back in the closet and didn't look back. I told everyone I would love to have a girl, but was planning for a boy. And I really was. I pretty much constantly had in my head it was a boy.

So when the good doctor pointed out his goods during the ultrasound, I looked at Taylor and said, "I told ya."

Poor Blaine, also present for the ultrasound, sobbed uncontrollably and still argues that it's a girl. Poor little guy really wants a sister.

But I didn't cry. I just couldn't. What is there to cry about? I am having a baby. And so far the baby looks really healthy. Both of those facts are totally miraculous. After having restrictive health problems for a year, I feel so blessed to conceive and have a healthy pregnancy, that I just couldn't be happier. Sincerely. I told God I'm not going to ask him for a girl. He knows my heart, and if I'm supposed to raise daughters he'll send them my way. But as long as I have friends struggling with infertility and miscarriages and babies born with disabilities and best friends dying of cancer, I just can't pray for a daughter. I'm blessed as it is and I have too many other important things to pray for.

Now, don't get me wrong. I cried when I found out Roger was a boy. I'm not some perfect person. If you've had multiple sons and cried about it, I don't think you're silly. I think I had one night after this ultrasound, in fact, in which I cried to Taylor about crib bedding because 'I just really wanted to decorate a girlie nursery...' It's just that there are so many people in my life right now that are really going through tragic things, that I can't be sad about a baby, and a healthy one at that.

And that's that. I don't mean to sound self-righteous or anything like that. It's perfectly normal to feel disappointed when things don't go how you dream they'll go. And, I'm sure, if I ever have an ultrasound tech show me a girl on the screen, I'll want to shout it from the rooftops. But right now I just feel really grateful to be having another baby. And here's the other thing--I really love little boys. Blaine and Rog wrestle and snuggle and chase (and hit and fight...) and play and play together. When one wakes up earlier than the other, he begs to wake up brother. When Blaine goes to preschool, Rog is a lost little soul. They are presh, and I can't wait to see them with a new little babe.