February 24th (or somewhere around there…) we will be welcoming our third BOY into our family. Yep, another boy!
I’m excited and nervous about the thought of being surrounded by so much testosterone. But if we’re being honest here those were not my initial feelings.
Hear me out here.
I have two amazing little boys. And I LOVE little boys. There is so much about them that makes me over the moon happy that I have two little boys that are so close in age. There is something about a brotherly bond and relationship that I’ve seen bloom and flourish before my eyes. There is something about the way a little boy loves his momma above everything else in his big world. There is something about dirty, rowdy, loud little boys that pushes every button, but makes your heart so full at the end of every day.
I truly love having boys. I mean, clearly I was excited when we found out Cameron was a boy….
Two boys and three years later I still love having boys.
However…. I’d also really love to have a little girl. I’m your typical “girly girl” and would truly cherish having the mother-daughter relationship with a daughter of my own.
Last week we found out we’re expecting our third boy. And since we’re being honest…. I wasn’t initially excited. I cried. Not because he is a he. But because of all the things I’ll never get to do, the relationship I’ll never get to have.
I know, I know. Yes. I should be grateful I have a healthy baby. It shouldn’t matter the gender, but that I was able to get pregnant and stay pregnant (thus far). And I am! I can wholeheartedly say that I am so, so grateful especially after our loss last year. But there was still a part of me, a large part of me, that was wanting a girl more than anything.
I wanted the boys to have a little sister to play with and care for. To protect her when they’re older and be her best friends when she was having a hard time. I wanted my husband to have a little girl. For her to be his little princess and to show her what she should look for in her future husband.
And me? I wanted a daughter. To put her in dresses and bows. To teach her how to do her hair and makeup. To pick out her prom dress one day. To help her plan her wedding. To be the one she always turns to even when she’s married and has children of her own.
Those are all the thoughts I had when we saw the little part that means baby #3 isn’t a girl. And I was sad for what I won’t get to experience. However, after a lot of tears, pouting and a restless night I came to my senses. And truly had a come to Jesus moment where He was like, “Uhh hi. You have a baby. Be thankful for that beautiful blessing and raise him up in the way he should go.”
So here it is.
I get the great honor of bearing another beautiful baby.
I get to raise a band of brothers who will fight for each other and with each other for the rest of their lives.
I get to have another bond between mother and son that is not paralleled by any other relationship I’ve ever had.
I get to watch my husband share his movie loving, football and wrestling with another boy who will rumble and tumble with him like the other two do.
And most importantly, I get to raise three sons, three husbands and three fathers.
I am honored to be given that privilege. To raise three men who will go out into the world and be good humans.
What else could I ask for?
So now I will organize all the totes of boy clothes I already own, prepare myself for being overly outnumbered by male testosterone and brace myself for yet another amazing adventure of welcoming our third boy.
And I couldn’t be more excited.
Dirt, stinky feet and all.