I know no one reads this blog anymore, but that's okay. Why should they - I hardly ever post anything. Just like LadyBug's baby book, I just can't seem to find time to update anything anymore. I recently realized that we didn't take any video or pictures of LB's first steps. None! That's a fairly big event and yet it slipped right past me. Poor baby#2...I can only imagine this gets worse. Of course now I know why my own baby book, as baby #4 in my family, had like three things filled out.
But, right now I need to whine. Just a little. Even if no one is there to listen. Which is probably a good thing since this is really pathetic of me. But I need to vent something. Air it out. Let it go.
We found out last week that #2 is a girl. A healthy, perfectly normal (as far as they can tell), little girl. Awesome, right? I mean this is a TRUE miracle. This is a baby that didn't cost $30K. Didn't take two + years to happen. Didn't cause undue worrying and excessive depression. This is a fantastic, wonderful, amazing gift from God. Yet, away from everyone else, usually in my car or in bed while DH sleeps, I moan. I cry. I mourn.
And here's where it's probably a good thing that no one reads this: I'm sad it's not a boy. There. I've said it. It's out. Pathetic, right? But still true.
I just always thought of myself as a "boy's mom." I don't know why. Maybe because I love football. Maybe because I want that special relationship between a boy and his mom.
But the real reason is because I'm afraid of raising girls. Raising one girl is scary enough. Actually - it is petrifying! But two? There's no WAY I'm getting out of raising two girls without at least one of them hating my guts and doing some unthinkable thing to get back at me. I just really can't stand all the drama and hormones associated with us girls. We girls are a handful and boys seem, well, much more simple.
We have a TON of girls in our family. There are three girls and a boy on my side. My brother had one son, my sisters only had girls. My husband doesn't have any siblings. In addition to my own disappointment, I can visibly tell that my extended family is disappointed. Of course they wouldn't say anything, but I can tell. So, of course, I feel like I'm letting them all down, too.
I want to buy corduroys and little ties and sweater vests. I want to decorate a room with lions and tigers and baseball stuff. I hate glitter and lace and disn.ey princesses and pink.
At the end of the day, I know that it's not about what we want or what we get, or who we let down. I KNOW that God's plan is way bigger than mine and there's a reason he gave us (BLESSED us!) with another girl. I know that I have so much to be thankful for - especially that this pregnancy has been fairly uneventful and ALL of the tests have been great. And I know there's a lot of great things about raising sisters and that there's lots of mom's out there who would die for a little girl. But. But. But. I still am sad. Just a little. I'll get over it.
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