I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my husband before we had kids. I loved to ask hypothetical questions about our future (ok, well… Maybe I still do). I asked him if he cared if we had a boy or girl first.
“I don’t care,” he said. It wasn’t much of a surprise.
“Well I want a girl,” I told him. “I want to keep going until we have a girl.”
At the sound of that he realized he too wanted a girl as soon as possible.
“What is we have a boy and I don’t love him as much?” I asked him hypothetically.
My husband’s face twisted with confusion. “Why would you say that?”
It really was a mean thing to say. I don’t know why I even asked. But deep down I did wonder if I’d feel a hint of disappointment if I found out I was having a boy.
Fast forward a few years later. I was pregnant with my first and I couldn’t wait to have my 20 week ultrasound to find out what we were having. No really, I couldn’t wait. I took an intelligender test that told me I was having a boy. You can’t miss the disappointed tone as I read the results.
A month or so later when we found out those results were wrong and we were actually having a girl, I cried tears of joy.
Fast forward a couple more years. I was pregnant again, this time we go the surprise route and find out that we have a little boy once he’s placed in my arms. I had no idea what to expect or what I was in for. But I also didn’t imagine to fall in love so fast and so far just as I had the first time with my daughter.
Once a week, after dropping his sister off at school we go and get donuts at a nearby donut shop. We sit by the window until the freight train goes by. It’s a simple little tradition, but it means a lot to me. And although he’s wild, loud, and not exactly what I envisioned in my future–I can’t help but feel that he was just too wonderful and unpredictable for me to dream up myself.