I am on the verge of giving birth (I use that term lightly since I have C-sections). This time next week there will be a new Hanson in town.
While this is an exciting time, it’s also fraught with the typical concerns and scheduling that occur with bringing a newborn into the midst of a well-oiled household routine (can you hear me laughing?). I always get sentimental and weepy at this point in pregnancy. I am glad to be nearly done with this physically exhausting state, excited to meet the baby, and apprehensive about the dynamics of a new human being.
This time is especially different because we are preparing to welcome our first son into the fold. When people hear that we have three girls and that we’re about to have a boy, they usually congratulate me and make some sort of remark like “Finally a boy!” or “Aren’t you so excited?” Truth be told, I’m never the kind of pregnant woman who rubs her belly and talks to the child with gleeful anticipation, but I still try to respond with the polite, expected answer, “Yes. We’re excited.”
Shortly after I found out we were having a boy, I experienced my first pangs of sadness. This pregnancy was to be different from the previous two. There would be no pulling out hand-me-downs and finding all the cute little dresses that the big sisters had worn. There would be no little baby girl at the end of this long haul. Instead there would be something completely different and unknown: a little baby boy.
The two older girls are very excited to meet their baby brother. The youngest is excited about babies in general. It’s the mom that is having her typical (yet different in degree) feelings about the end of an era. After next week, we won’t be a household of little Hanson girls. As much as I look forward to the potential balance of emotions that a boy could bring, I just don’t know what to expect.
Tonight I was explaining this sadness to my husband. I can’t help but feel foolish when I talk about it. I have survived the birth of three other children. That’s three regime changes that have all worked out. And it goes without saying that I can’t imagine my life without any of the current Hanson children.
Yet, it always comes to this for me. This resignation to the new way that things will be, a faith in the resiliency of the family unit that can handle this change, and a hope that the newest member will make a smooth entrance, enabling me to quickly jettison any doubt I had about God’s ability to know what’s best.
- But how did you come to us, you dear?
- God thought about you, and so I am here.
- — From The Baby by George Macdonald
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Praying for you!
Your sentiments are mine exactly. Thanks for your honesty and vulnerability. I am encouraged and (even more) emotional now having read this.
How creepy is the blue baby add to the right?
Beautiful post.
Bends in the road are always simultaneously frightening and exciting — frightening because you don’t know what’s coming, and exciting because, well, you don’t know what’s coming.
Good luck with the arrival of Baby Boy!
Alicia,
When I was pregnant the very first time, all I wanted was a girl. The thought of carrying a boy was almost alien to me… something about the growth and development of a male human body inside my only female one. It was just plain weird to me. We didn’t know what we were having, so the anticipation coupled with total anxiety just about sent me over the edge.
Then my son was born. After gazing into his trusting eyes and raising him to eleven months of age, my second pregnancy began. And of course, at this point I couldn’t imagine ever having a girl – ever. Then she was born… She was the most wonderful and beautiful baby, a girl. It just kept going on from there… and I also can’t wait to meet the ones in heaven.
Your post is so beautiful and so normal and I appreciate you writing what others are likely thinking, but never say.
Praying for you, especially all day Friday.
We’re praying for you, too, over in the Cordelia household. I think little boys are such a blessing until 18 months of age, but the same came said about girls.
However, my boys continue to teach me more about men than I ever would know if I only had girls. And, believe me, I never thought that I would appreciate boys and men as much as I do now. Don’t let the romantic nursery rhyme fool you–it is such an incomplete picture.
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails
That’s what little boys are made of !”
What are little girls made of?
“Sugar and spice and all things nice
That’s what little girls are made of!”