a confession.

baby shoesI debated whether or not to even write this, let alone post it publicly. In the end, I reminded myself that the whole point of this blog is to share my heart with strangers, and with that comes total and complete honesty, despite my occasional fears of what people may think. So, here goes a confession... Friday night we found out that we are having a baby boy. We were elated, to say the least, and the transition from "it" to "he" has been amazing. I can actually picture our son, with his daddy's eyes and perfect smile. I can vividly imagine Brett teaching him how to play basketball and the mere thought of that warms my heart in a capacity I didn't know it could be warmed. We use his name regularly, and already went clothes shopping to celebrate. All weekend I was happy. Content. I could suddenly see our future so much clearer than before, like our family had been defined in a new way.

And yet, there was a part of me that still felt unsettled. That's the best way I can describe this. I couldn't really put my finger on it until Saturday night, when I worked up the courage to say out loud the feelings I had been suppressing. Brett and I were cuddled on the couch talking about our baby boy, when I blurted it out unexpectedly.

"There's a tiny part of me that is sad we're not having a girl."

The second the words left my mouth, tears came streaming down my face so fast I couldn't have stopped them if I tried. And then I was crying, really crying. That deep ugly cry where you shake and gasp for air and desperately choke on your own tears. I cried for everything. For our perfect girl name and the gold sparkly shoes and her hypothetical long eyelashes and all the headbands and dresses in the world. I cried for all of it. And as I cried, I hated myself. I hated myself for feeling even the slightest ounce of disappointment. In that moment, I felt so unworthy to be a mom. I felt unworthy to be blessed with a sweet baby boy. I hated the tears, and I hated myself for not being able to stop them.

Brett whispered in my ear over and over again "It's okay. It's okay to cry. It's okay to feel this way. It's okay to be sad."

Brett is perfect in those situations. He always is. I honestly don't know what I ever did to deserve him. I finally managed to pull myself together, and immediately felt better. I guess I just needed to get it out....to release the sad. I remembered hearing a story of a woman who wanted a baby girl, and cried when she found out she was having a boy. I remembered how I judged her without even knowing her, and here I was just a few months later doing the same thing. What was wrong with me?

All along I knew I was having a boy. And I was happy about it! I AM happy about it. I think I had only known I was pregnant a few weeks when I first told Brett our baby was a boy. He laughed it off and told me I was crazy, but I was convinced. Which is probably why I didn't cry on Friday when we cut the cake. The cake only confirmed what I already knew. And yet, that blue slice was so....final. If I had the tiniest inkling or any bit of hope at all that our baby could be a girl, it was gone. In an instant. At the same time, I was so overwhelmed with happiness that I didn't have the ability to process what that meant until 24 hours later.

The next morning Brett and I were lying in bed as he started rattling off all the reasons why having a boy is a great thing, as if I needed to be reminded. He told me that now I'm going to have two boys to protect me. Two men to keep me safe, instead of one. Two men that adore me, instead of one. Two men to take care of me, instead of one.

Maybe I did need to be reminded, because I haven't stopped thinking about my two protectors, and how lucky I am to have them both. How much I love them both.

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