For years, I assumed I would have a daughter one day. Girlie girls had only daughters, correct? What would I do with a boy? I'm not into sports. I avoid getting dirty or sweaty. I could care less about cars or trucks or other large pieces of machinery that I can't name. I held this assumption back when I foolishly believed I could get pregnant whenever I chose to, and that I would have a May baby one day (always my preferred month to give birth, not sure why). I didn't understand the Lord's sovereignty then. I also had no appreciation for the miracle of or fragile nature of life.
Even with my first pregnancy, had it lasted longer, I probably would have secretly yearned for a daughter. But then my life and perspective changed with that loss, and our second loss reminded me that God creates life, and any life is a miracle.
When I became pregnant a third time, it never crossed my mind to hope for a daughter--it just didn't matter anymore. Hair bows and cute outfits and girlie chats suddenly became much less important when praying for a baby to be born alive and healthy. I knew better than to take the latter for granted.
That moment in the labor and delivery room when my eyes first landed on my baby and Brad exclaimed, "It's a boy!" was one of the best surprises of my life. We had a healthy son! He was alive and screaming and suddenly flailing about on my chest. He was the baby made for us. The Lord had prepared and intended for me to mother a son. I had never known such gratitude and joy. And the surprise of his sex made meeting him for the first time even sweeter. I loved him instantly and unconditionally.
And now, nearly eight weeks later, I can't imagine having a daughter. Pee on the wall keeps my days at home with him anything but mundane. Another sports fan under my roof? Go Vols! Cars and trucks and dirt and roughhousing . . . those days, Lord willing, will come, and I can't wait.
I can't imagine any other face but this sweet boy's.
I have a son--hooray! And may he always know and love his mama.