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Thursday – Falling so He can Fly
Mar. 25th, 2010 04:04 pm.
.
.
When I first learned I was pregnant with my little Sweet Pea, I knew in my heart of hearts that my baby would be a girl. I felt it in my bones. I knew I was having a daughter because a daughter was what I wanted. This baby was a one-shot thing: an unplanned, high-risk pregnancy. Of course God, or the Universe, or Fate, or Lady Luck (what the Hell; I assumed all four of them) had no choice but to give me what I wanted. Besides, my husband already had a 15 year old son; what did he need another boy for? I grew up in a house full of boys, as the lone daughter in a family with three sons. My childhood had taught me that little boys were nothing but trouble.
Mostly I wanted a girl because it had been almost 20 years since I’d been a part of a mother-daughter relationship and I longed for that relationship back. My role would be reversed from what I had before my mother died, but having a daughter would allow me to retrieve a bit of what I’d lost when I was 15. When I was four months along, the first of two high-risk specialists I would see did an ultrasound and asked if I wanted to know the sex of my baby.
“Sure!” I said, excited to have my heart’s desire validated.
“Looks like a boy,” the doctor said.
I was crushed.
( You Can’t Always Get What You WantYou Can’t Always Get What You Want )
.
.
When I first learned I was pregnant with my little Sweet Pea, I knew in my heart of hearts that my baby would be a girl. I felt it in my bones. I knew I was having a daughter because a daughter was what I wanted. This baby was a one-shot thing: an unplanned, high-risk pregnancy. Of course God, or the Universe, or Fate, or Lady Luck (what the Hell; I assumed all four of them) had no choice but to give me what I wanted. Besides, my husband already had a 15 year old son; what did he need another boy for? I grew up in a house full of boys, as the lone daughter in a family with three sons. My childhood had taught me that little boys were nothing but trouble.
Mostly I wanted a girl because it had been almost 20 years since I’d been a part of a mother-daughter relationship and I longed for that relationship back. My role would be reversed from what I had before my mother died, but having a daughter would allow me to retrieve a bit of what I’d lost when I was 15. When I was four months along, the first of two high-risk specialists I would see did an ultrasound and asked if I wanted to know the sex of my baby.
“Sure!” I said, excited to have my heart’s desire validated.
“Looks like a boy,” the doctor said.
I was crushed.
( You Can’t Always Get What You WantYou Can’t Always Get What You Want )
