Will coolly leaned against a counter, legs crossed, arms
folded. His gentle smile never faded as
he waited patiently to hear the news.
Meanwhile, my Dad, step-dad and father-in-law frantically
huddled around the doctor’s tiny screen; counting ribs and looking for ANYTHING
resembling a phallus.
You could hear a pin drop.
“HE is doing
great!” the doctor said deliberately.
The room erupted.
Women cried.
Men beamed.
My father quietly sobbed as he texted everyone he knew that
he’d finally have his boy---his namesake.
At the celebratory lunch there was bourbon and tales of
childhood mischief. The men grappled for
the check, each wanting to pay for this special meal – this MANLY meal.
It was an amazing day.
One I will never forget.
The next day however was somewhat different.
I awoke at 4AM realizing I knew nothing about baby boys. In the dark silence, I desperately Googled everything
I could find on circumcision and changing male diapers.
“Wait… double diapering?
Ice packs?
Oh okay. So, we just have
to put a little Vaseline on it for a week.
Of course – you have to point the penis DOWN! Will, did you know that?”
I turned to my sleeping husband, his drool glistening in the
soft laptop light.
“…Should we discuss this later?”
By six I had moved on
to the nursery. It was decided – the
theme would be safari chic. My wish list
quickly filled with elephants and giraffes.
Inspiration photos were saved and emailed. My breathing finally slowed – I was wrapping
my head around this.
But somewhere around 7:30 – I got a bit sad. It slowly set it in that for the time being I’d
have to shelve all the hopes and dreams I had for my little Ella; that sweet
little girl I already knew how to diaper.
The one I could count on to be my best friend forever. The one I already had some idea how to raise.
The irony is none of these feelings detract from my
excitement about raising this little prince.
Bringing up Bobby will be an adventure and one I still very much look
forward to. But that achy, guilty
question persists: am I a bad person for
mourning the loss of my Ella? Will
anyone understand what I’m going through, or will people assume I’m taking this
incredible miracle for granted?
At first I thought I’d suffer with this alone – how could I
ever cop to having these thoughts? But soon I learned many of my close friends
and family had gone through similar moments in their pregnancies. Many gave amazing advice and slowly, I began
to forgive my own fears. And the truth
is when I dream about the day I finally get to hold my precious son, none of
those fears are present.
Maybe someday I’ll have the opportunity to meet Ella.
Maybe I won’t.
But either way, what an amazing little man my Bobby is going
to be!
