But I Don’t Want Another Boy

When I became pregnant with my first child I was just so happy to be pregnant after two years of trying I honestly did not care if the baby was a boy or a girl.  Everyone kept asking me what did I want, and I repeated over and over that it didn’t matter.  I was pregnant and that was all that I cared about.  At the 5 month ultrasound the technician told me that if it were a boy I would see a turtle on the ultra sound and if it were a girl it would look like the side view of a hamburger.  I don’t know why, maybe I was hungry, but that image really stayed with me.  Sure enough, once the exam was done and she looked for the sex, there was a little turtle shape clear as day, a round shell shape with the head sticking out.  Baby number one was a boy.  My days were soon filled with Tonka trucks, hotwheels cars, dinosaurs, and everything blue.  I was a very happy mommy and my little man was the center of my world.

A divorce, several years, and new husband later, I was pregnant once more.  This time I wanted a girl.  As much as I loved my son, I was ready for pink, lace, ruffles, tea parties, Barbie dolls, and all things princess.  After seven years of rough and tumble I was ready for sugar and spice.  The thought that I might have another boy didn’t seem like a reality to me.  I looked at magazines filled with pink nurseries, I scoured Pottery Barn Kids catalogs for frilly nursery bedding and furniture.  I started looking at the cutest outfits in pink, lavendar and yellow.  I was ready for my daughter with an anticipation that can’t really be put into words.

My husband went with me for the 5 month ultrasound and I sat their patiently with my legs firmly crossed after having drank what seemed like a swimming pools worth of water as required.  I laid on the exam table and waited for the confirmation to come, that yes I was indeed having a little girl.  And then, there on the monitor appeared a familiar turtle shape.  Even before she had the chance to say it out loud I knew in an instant I was having another boy.  The bubbly technician announced a boy and congratulated us.  My husband squeezed my hand and gave me a smile, but I knew he knew.  He was only too aware of how much I wanted a girl.

I smiled, said thank you, and then burst into tears.  I’m not talking about a few tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes.  Oh no, I am talking about crying that I was unable to stop even though I was mortified to be crying in front of a stanger when I had just been told I was carrying a healthy child.  I excused myself to go to the bathroom and cried some more in private.  Then I cried all the way home where I called my best friend and cried into the phone.  I knew that this was going to be my last child.  The truth was I was an older mom now and my husband was older than me.  We didn’t want to be seventy with a teenager some day so this was it.  My one and only shot at that precious daughter was gone.  It didn’t seem fair.  My husband already had a baseball loving fishing buddy.  Where was my shopping companion?  Where was the baby that I would dress all in pink and then paint her little finger nails later when she was older?  Where was the little person who was supposed to be a reflection of me that I would share all my womanly knowledge with one day.  I was in mourning for something I had never had and now never would.

But luckily time does heal all wounds, and by the time my darling second son was born I was honestly happy to be having another boy.  Today I couldn’t even imagine my life without this precious little boy who is cute as a button and knows it only too well.  His hugs and kisses and cuddles make my day and he shares them happily.  Still, sometimes I will see a mother and daughter when out in public and I will get this crazy sensation deep in my stomach and the thought that maybe we weren’t so old or maybe we should have tried one more time will pop into my mind.  Still, a third baby didn’t necessarily guarantee a daughter.  It could have just as easily been another boy.  The fact is my family is complete, and it is perfect in its own way.  Each day is filled with love and challenges, happiness and silliness, and just a touch of crazy to keep it interesting.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: