I lay there and I prayed…please let this baby be healthy.
I lay there and I prayed…please let this baby be a girl.
The slurping and squishing of the gel, the gray screen, and the endless chatter of the sonographer did little to crowd out my silent prayers.
Photo, squish, photo, squoosh.
Please…another girl…please…a sister for Katie. Let her have a sister…the sister that I never had.
Then came the words that we had prayed we’d hear…the baby looks beautiful.
Then, the words that I had prayed we wouldn’t…what a sweet little guy.
Please no…please let her be wrong.
The chatter, the congratulations, the crinkle of the scratchy paper towels did little to mute my sorrow.
I smeared at the gel…a boy.
I hastily dressed…not a girl.
I looked at Craig…
And I cried.
In all of my dreams, I never envisioned a son.
I never wanted a son.
My dreams held another baby girl… a sister for Katie.
I cried and I grieved for my hopes of another daughter.
And I truly hated myself for being ungrateful for this healthy baby.
I shopped for him, I filled his closet with sky blue and khaki and chocolate brown.
And I came to accept all that we had been given.
And, of course, I loved him from the moment that I saw him…I had never doubted that I would.
But, in the quiet moments during those middle of the night feedings in his room, my heart softened.
In the soft morning light, as he melted into me, my heart expanded.
With each smile, each hug, each mischievous giggle, my heart has stretched further than I ever dreamed it would.
Like sharp, broken glass, tumbled by the ocean current, my love for him smoothed and softened.
I cannot imagine another day of my life without him in it.
My love for him, like sea glass.
My treasured boy has taught me that sometimes, out of disappointment, comes immeasurable joy.
Unexpected and endless joy.
I have a son…a beautiful, perfect, irreplaceable son.
And he is exactly what I needed.