My son

I'm going to share a little secret, which may not be such a secret to those close to me. The first 24 hours in which I found out I was having a boy this time around I was shocked, and pretty sad. I felt sad and then of course horribly guilty for feeling sad. I asked "why" and I told God that baby wasn't supposed to be a boy. I felt jaded and abandoned. I felt crazy for those feelings I was having and keep repeating in my head and out loud "what is WRONG with me?" Even after I wrapped my mind around the excitement of it all, I still was beating myself up for days and weeks just thinking about how upset I was initially and how that wasn't fair to my son.

How selfish and cruel and rude and ignorant of me. After LOSING a child who had a tragic genetic condition, how dare I be upset that this new little healthy life inside of me was a boy. Obviously I knew the most important thing was that baby was healthy and things were going smoothly. Shouldn't I be celebrating? Shouldn't I be joyous? Shouldn't I be thankful? Certainly not emotional, desperate and scared.

I've been processing these strange feelings and I'm realizing more and more that those feelings were related to grief of what I have lost, rather than directed at what our family is gaining. Having not found out the sex of our babies the first two pregnancies, I KNEW that I needed to find out the sex this time around. I needed something to KNOW. Something to feel certain about. I needed to be prepared mentally and emotionally.

Yet, my expectation was that I would have another little girl and then I would finally be able to experience what it felt like to raise two little girls - like how it would have felt to raise Avery and Lucy together. I desperately wanted for Avery to have another sister... not just one in heaven, but one on earth that she could love and bond with and KNOW in a real way. I felt like I needed another girl to fit into that picture I had for my life. On top of that, the pregnancy felt the same as Avery's, and I assumed I was having another girl. I didn't want to be wrong. I couldn't go through the whole pregnancy guessing and assuming incorrectly. The truth of the matter is, though, even if the baby was a girl this time around I'm sure it would have been just as emotional of an experience.

I had to get real with myself. I AM celebrating. I AM joyous. I AM thankful. I'm just those other crappy emotions too. And they can all exist simultaneously, side by side. The loss will still always be there. I'm not afraid to admit that, though I try to hide how it breaks me down sometimes.

Now I'm in a better place, which is why I can finally admit all of this. I thought about writing these words before and was ashamed. What if my son saw these words one day? What if he thought I didn't want him? I was sick.

But I want my son to know how I feel, because of what I've been learning in these weeks of pregnancy, as we bond (one swift kick at a time). One of the greatest examples of family love is exposing the truest, rawest parts of love - and sometimes they don't look pretty and perfect. Love is a feeling. It's not passive, it's always active. It's given and accepted.

See, God has been working on me. He has been displaying before me great examples of His love, and asking me to put my trust in Him. Only in Him. My son is chosen. He was chosen before I could ever dream him up in my pea-sized brain. He is God-known and planned for. He has great purpose. I'm in awe at the greatness of God's love and that he would allow me to be the vessel to bring this child into the world. That I might get the opportunity to love him, and worry about him, and teach him.

I can't rely on this baby boy to heal my grief wounds, and that is not his job. But his life brings us so much hope and his arrival will show our family a whole new way we can love.