I Wanted A Girl

My whole life, I knew I wanted a little girl.  She would have blonde hair and blue eyes just like me.  She’d be funny and sarcastic and she would LOVE The Little Mermaid.  (Narcissistic much?)  I think part of my girl-wanting was due to wishing I had a sister.  Obviously, I grew up and realized that children weren’t around specifically to entertain their parents, but still, I wanted a girl.  Even as a teenager, I’d see those adorable little dresses at Target and think, “One day.”  

Some people don’t want kids.  Some people don’t know if they might want them one day.  I have always wanted them.  While I’ve always been selfish, I’ve also always been a nurturer.  It is in my nature to take care of people.  In my adolescent head, I’d get married at twenty two, and have babies by twenty five.  I didn’t (and still don’t) know how many I wanted, but that I wanted more than one.  Being an only child has its advantages, but I so desperately wanted a sibling.  I wanted my child to have one.

I got married at twenty six.  According to my made-up timeline, I should have already had three kids by then.  When I was twenty eight, I got pregnant.  My husband wanted a boy.  Suddenly, and I promise I didn’t just tell myself this, I wanted a boy too.  I think it’s because the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was in love.  I honestly didn’t care what it was.  It was mine and my husband’s and I loved it.  He wanted a boy, so I wanted a boy for him.  Nineteen weeks later, I studied sonograms online.  I wanted to be the first to see the sex of my baby.  Twenty weeks later, we went to the doctor.  “Please be a boy. Please be a boy.” I thought.  I didn’t want my husband to be disappointed.  Obviously, he wouldn’t have acted disappointed, but I would know.

The second he popped up on the screen, I saw him.  “BOY!” I squealed with delight.  “JACK!  It’s a Jack!  That’s our JACK!”  I felt so relieved.  So proud.  So excited.  Wait.  What the heck am I going to do with this boy?

I had never pictured myself with a boy.  I was excited, but confused.  What do you dress little boys in?  Will he still want to be musical like me?  Will he love sports?  Will I be spending my thirties and forties at ball games and wrestling matches?  Will he relate to me?  Will I relate to him?

Keep in mind, these questions were all internally raised.  I was pregnant still.  I hadn’t met him yet.  I didn’t know what to expect.  AT ALL.  I had no siblings.  All of my cousins lived out of state.  I didn’t even babysit.  The only reason I knew about little girls is because I was one.  Little boys were totally out of my comfort zone.

At only two years old, I can already tell that Jack is a BOY’S boy.  He *without any direction from his parents* is already into trucks, cars, choo choos, and balls.  He likes to growl and chase things with pretend swords.  He likes to fall down on purpose.  When his father “attacks” him and wrestles him to the ground (as I anxiously hold my breath), my son laughs like it is the funniest situation he’s ever encountered.

I am positive that I WILL carry out most of my thirties and forties at ball games.  Because he is my darling, I am actually excited about this.  I will WANT to go to these games.  I will probably even miraculously understand football.  I will be the mom screaming at the ref while my husband holds me back.

I watched a season of The Bachelor once.  The one with Sean (and Catherine) Lowe.  Sean’s dad told Catherine that he had been praying for her since Sean was born.  He had prayed that she was safe, and happy, and that she would make Sean happy and vice versa.  Because of that episode, I have often wondered who Jack’s future spouse would be.  I pray for them.  I wonder if they exist yet.  I have no idea.  But one day (hopefully), I will meet the love of Jack’s life and be able to say, “I prayed for you.”  Maybe I won’t, but Jack please show this to your darling if I’m not around.  Also, Jack, if you’ve chosen to be single, I guess that just goes to prove my point.  Maybe you won’t get married.  Maybe you will.  Maybe you’ll be a priest.  Maybe your mother should stop trying to predict your future!

Looking back, it’s funny how things didn’t go quite the way I had planned.  They never seem to, do they?  Somehow, though, things do turn out the way you know they were meant.  Suddenly, I can’t imagine the life I used to picture for myself.  If I had gotten it, I wouldn’t get to experience the thrill of raising my precious boy.  We love to plan for the future.  It’s hard not to look forward.  I keep saying I want a little girl when we have another child, but I am positive that if we have a boy (or if I have no more children) that my life will be exactly how God planned it-and you can’t get better than that.

 

 

 

 

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