When I was pregnant with Evan, I was pretty surprised when we found out he was a boy. I mean, close to the time of the ultrasound, deep down I really did think it was a boy, especially since he looked like a little basketball in my tummy. But, I came from a family of all girls (1 sister and 2 girl cousins), and I always pictured myself with my own little girl - dressing her up and taking her to ballet classes. When I held Evan for the first time and started experiencing life with a baby boy, I couldn't be any happier. Nothing beats that mommy-son bond.
When I found out we were pregnant with #2, of course some of the first questions asked were, "So, do you hope it's a girl this time?" My complete honest response was always, "I would love to have a girl but I would be perfectly happy with a healthy boy." In the beginning of May, we had our ultrasound and found out Evan was going to have a little brother. Then the comments and questions really started. "Oh, are you OK with having another boy?" "So does that mean you'll try for a third baby?" "Are you going to curl up into a ball and cry for the remainder of this pregnancy and the rest of your son's life?" Ok, so that last question was never really asked, but that's really how some people were reacting. Let's just put it this way, I will love my child no matter what. It does not matter if it's a boy or girl, if his eyes are blue or brown, if his hair is black or blonde, or really if he has 10 fingers or toes. And, this has no major impact on whether or not we will have a third child. If we want another child, we will. Who's to say it won't be another boy?
Ok, so my rant is over. I need to go take out all my adorable blue clothing from the crawlspace and get ready for my baby boy to arrive in just 3 short months.
Memorial Day Runaway Cincy, Day 1
3 weeks ago