You would have thought someone had died.
I walked into the kitchen from the van. Placed my purse on the table and went straight up to my bed. Laying me and my big pregnant belly down for a good, hard cry.
I had it all planned out. I would go to the ultra sound, come home, get dressed for dinner with my best friends, where I would reveal the “Tickled Pink” tank top that I bought for this special day.
The day the doctor told me those three words I had prayed twenty weeks to hear…
“It’s a girl.”
My “Tickled Pink” tank top lay at the foot of my bed, mocking me, one teardrop at a time.
The ultrasound tech didn’t even have to say word. I recognized that little appendage from twice before. The unmistakable indicator that blue would grace my walls once again.
“That’s a penis isn’t it?”
“Yes.” she said.
I didn’t just start to cry. It was more like a groan. The nurse had to lift me off the table and walk me to the bathroom to collect myself.
I wanted to see three lines, so badly.
After I pulled myself together enough to see my way back to the table, I lay flat again, allowing this compassionate and now very quiet technition to complete my ultra sound and tell me the news I was relieved to hear, “You have a healthy baby in there.”
Yes, I know. This is all that matters. But when hopes are set high…so high you are buying pink maternity tank tops, your heart grows sad… needing to digest the news. The lifelong news that you are a now a mother of three boys.
And I did grieve it as a loss. Because it was. It was the loss of a dream. My dreams of being mother-of-the-bride. Of passing down Mamaw’s cornbread recipe to my daughter. Of playing with the barbie dolls I have kept for years and knowing no one will ever be intrigued with my “french braiding” skills.
I lay on that bed a good two hours. Sulking and sleeping and rejecting all phone calls. I canceled my dinner plans and hid the tank top. I needed time.
Time to take it in and come to grips.
I sat infront of my PC the next morning, hungover from tears, but now feeling determined to grab hold this three-boy-buck by the reigns and step into my new role with great intentionality. So I emailed the pro. Mrs. Alicia. A seasoned mother who, too, had seen the same appendage on the screen three times, but twenty years prior.
Trying not to sound too desperate, I asked advice on what to expect for the next, um, 18+ years.
To my question she responded…
Boys are interesting creatures, as they can sometimes be just be plain gross. As moms of boys, our goals are to PRAY a lot, feed them well, teach them about sex (abstinence, of course ) and encourage their sports’ interests.
You will abdicate all things girly. I am just now learning about shampoos, nail polish, facials, pedicures, etc.. I spent most of my life on ballfields and ball courts. Instead of buying prom dresses, I was buying cups for jock straps.
Oh, and last but not least, it will be necessary to make friends with girls who are the boys’ ages (in middle/high school). Boys do not usually tell you much of anything that is going on in life but the girls will keep you informed very well. As a matter of fact, our youngest is a senior in high school, and heck, he may be married right now for all we know. I recently found out that he was voted “friendliest” out of his Senior class (back in the fall), that Project Graduation meetings are almost over (they started back in the fall) and that he asked a girl to Prom and she has already ditched him. Mind you, he told us none of this; girls tell us. Yes, girls will be your allies and they will let you know what is going on.
Boys are very simple. There are usually little, to no, mood swings. What you see is what you get. They have no hidden agendas, cannot lie well enough to trick you, do not possess the art of manipulation, and don’t really care what color their room is painted. They don’t usually slam bedroom doors or pout for very long, if at all. THEY DO LIKE TO PHYSICALLY FIGHT. This used to really upset me until I started making them go outside so I wouldn’t have to view it. Once they hash it out, they immediately are playing again. as if they are best friends. They will also, absolutely, tear up everything in your house so don’t even think about having pretty things sitting around or dream of a decorator’s home until they are gone to college. At home they are mostly interested in FOOD and TV and more FOOD. And they love and need attention and approval, especially from dad.
Probably way much more than you asked for, but it’s a great life and a simple one. I wouldn’t change a minute of raising boys. I never saw myself as a “boy mom” but God knew what He was doing when He blessed me with them.
Welcome to the Club! Keep me posted on how things are going. You will do great!
With this wisdom in my tool belt, I went back to the drawing board. I dove deeply into God’s Word and began praying (first for forgiveness for my ungrateful heart) but now for this precious third son in my womb.
I guess Ol’ Garth is right, “Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.” For if my walls were pink, then I’d be sacrificing The Pook.
Yes, Luke. Our Pookey. Our snuggle bunny. Our kissing bandit. I would have never known those lanky arms or protruding ears. I would have missed out years of belly laughs and hours of entertainment. I would have never know the joy of three boys or the fun of it all.
Alicia was right. They are fascinated with tooting and burping and all things gross. And it does make me absolutely crazy. But they are equally fascinated with their daddy and sports and swords and Jesus.
My life. Full of primary colors, power rangers, priceless morning hugs and LEGOs. I just thought I knew what I wanted. But God’s infinite wisdom gives us what we need most. And I can’t even forsee now, how much sense this all makes.
Thank you God. I thought I knew. I just thought I knew.
Happy Birthday, Lukie Pookie!
You make FIVE all the more fun!