Ultrasound

"So, are you hoping for a little boy this time?"

I can't tell you how many times I have had this question asked of me since I started showing. People I know, random strangers at Target, the "ballet moms" I've just met, basically anyone who sees me with two little blonde girls in tow.

And to be quite honest, this question has always irritated me a little. Because behind the question is the assumption that:
1) we (or Michael specifically) won't ever be completely happy unless we have "one of each" as the saying goes,
2) this is our last child and our last chance at ending assumption number 1, and/or
3) we're going to keep having kids until we get that elusive missing gender.

Ok, maybe I'm being too harsh. I think most people are just making conversation. And even the ones who have one or more of the above assumptions in mind do it justifiably - it's how they feel or would feel in the same situation.

I think I might be in a very small minority of mothers who just want children. Period. And lots of them. Whatever Heavenly Father sees fit to send me, I'll take. And having one or the other isn't going to be a reason to stop or keep going.

I say all this because this is how I very adamantly felt before going to my ultrasound today to determine our baby's health and gender. Though I wouldn't have wanted to admit it, I think deep down I was hoping for another girl. Because it's what we know, and what we're good at. We really love raising little girls. Not to mention I wouldn't have to buy the baby anything. So economically it just made sense as well.

This morning the tech spread the goey gel all over my tummy and got started looking at the baby. Within 5 seconds of the wand touching my belly she asks, "Do you want to know the sex?"

I was not ready. I wasn't expecting this. With Shaelyn, it took the entire 40-minute ultrasound to determine what she was, and even then it wasn't conclusive. Even with Rachelle, we didn't know until about 5 or 10 minutes into it. But here we were, seeing an image of our baby on the screen for the very first time, just trying to wrap our minds around the fact that there was a healthy baby in there (despite some of my more recent anxieties), when the prospect of knowing who was joining our family awaited us.

I'm not even sure I squeaked out the word "Yes" before she was announcing, "It's a boy!"

I looked at Michael and squeezed his hand, so happy that he would be having a son. That we would be having a son. I sat in stunned silence for several minutes, while the reality of what she said washed over me.

And then I started sobbing.

And not because I don't want a son. I do. I want this son. Desperately. And not because I don't know what to do with a little boy. I'll figure it out. I can play Legos and Star Wars with the best of them. And not even because of the logistical differences in diapering and potty training, although admittedly those make a little nervous.

No, I sobbed because I'm terrified. Because all these repressed fears surfaced with the words, "It's a boy!" Because I suddenly felt inadequate, not up to the task. And the fear of failure had taken over.

I feel very strongly about my role as a mother. My purpose. I know what I'm trying to accomplish. I'm determined to raise unto the Lord a righteous posterity. And the prospect of raising righteous women of God has never daunted me. I have always felt up to the task. I enjoy showing my girls the delight I take in motherhood. I take seriously my responsibility to shield and protect them. I want more than anything for them to grow up to be women with a sound understanding of who they are, with a desire for things that are righteous, with joy in their role as women and mothers. This responsibility doesn't scare me. If anything, it motivates and drives me.

But raising a son, a man of God? This prospect is overwhelming. And not because he will have different expectations placed on him. Heavenly Father expects the same out of all his children. But because the forces of the adversary seem to be so targeted on God's sons, and at such young ages. Young boys are exposed to immorality as children, and much more blatantly than young girls are. A young woman of virtue, for the most part, is admired and respected, while a young man of virtue is teased and bullied and thought to be "less than a man."

I drove home with all these thoughts swimming in my head. Will I teach him right? Help him honor his priesthood? Give him the courage to turn away from the trap of pornography that seems to be engulfing us? Show him how to honor and respect womenhood and motherhood? Guide him toward becoming the man God wants him to be?

Pretty heavy thoughts for a Wednesday morning.

I have since calmed down (a little). I have found my faith again - my faith in myself as a mother, my faith in Michael as a father, my faith in the Lord to guide both of us in raising one of His sons. And I have stepped out of my anxiety for long enough to remember all spirits come to this world the same way - as little babies, completely innocent. And that what my son is going to need from me as a little baby is love. Which I have plenty to give.

So I look forward to our family addition. I'm excited to become a mother of a boy. I look forward to loving a son. My son.

I'm especially grateful to have such an excellent example from good friends on how to raise a righteous son of God. My first words at the ultrasound? "Well, I'm 3 for 3 with Grapefruit." She has 4 kids, 2 years apart. 2 daughters, and then a son, followed by another daughter. She is my mothering mentor in every way, even to the point that my children's genders seem to follow the example she has set. Her outlook on being a mother to a son is one that I hope to share. Read her beautiful words here and here.