My husband and I were expecting our second child and just like the first birth, he did not want to know the sex of the baby. I worked it out with the first birth and kept it a secret for as long as I could. He did not know until we neared the end – I had to decorate! But this one, I was determined to keep it a secret. Besides, I was certain it was another boy. I had talked with God in 6th grade and expressed how I wanted a house full of boys. Four boys to be exact; football, baseball, track and basketball. I wanted one for each of those sports and I promised to be the best mom on the street. It was all in my head; stay at home, make cookies, do crafts, and be everything to my boys. So, when the first kid was a boy, I just knew God and I were still on the same page – BOYS, BOYS, BOYS!!!
My husband, 2 year old son, and I went to the doctor’s office on the day of the sonogram. I was so excited while they were clowning around as fathers and sons do. They were in the room with me the entire time until the doctor told them to leave so he could reveal the sex. When they silently closed the door to the exam room and we could no longer hear their footsteps going down the hall, the doctor swiveled around on his stool and cussed at me. I’m serious, he cussed at me! He said, “You’re having a girl this time!” I would like to say that I sat straight up on that table but that would be a lie. I was much too big, much too round, and my waist was much too short for me to jump up. So, the only quick action in the room was the tears that popped up in my eyes and the straining of my neck to see the screen. I could not say anything. I did not want to say anything because I knew I would sound ungrateful. So, I swallowed the big lump in my throat as the doctor looked at me in total misunderstanding. He said happy things about having a boy and a girl and of having someone just for me, and I’m thinking – how in the world am I going to raise a girl?
I checked out, paid my copay very slowly writing the check. I was trying to get myself together to go to the car and act like that doctor hadn’t just cussed me out. My husband and son jumped out of the car when they saw me coming and they were so happy. We were so blessed. I mean every thing was just great about our lives. So, tell me, yes, tell me, why I burst out crying in that parking lot. I mean I wailed. I cried so hard that my son had tears in his eyes. He was sucking on his two fingers so hard and I could not stop crying. My husband’s voice raised three octaves as he tried to get out of me what was wrong. “Stacia’, what’s wrong baby? Is something wrong with the baby? Is something wrong with you? What is it?” I was trying to say, I have to tell you but I don’t think it came out clearly. I was trying to hold to our bargain that he would be surprised in the delivery room with the sex of the baby. But he kept asking me what was wrong. You should have seen the look on his face when I yelled through a water filled throat, stuffy nose, and swollen eyes, “IT’S A GIRL!”
He stopped, stood up straight, looked over at our son and said, “It’s a girl? You’re crying because it’s a girl?” What came from me next was a fear so buried in me that I did not know how he would ever look at me again.
I was afraid to have a girl because of how bad my relationship was with my mama growing up. I did not think it was possible for God to bless me with a good mother/daughter relationship so I had banked everything on being able to do it right with boys. I carried so much guilt for how I treated my mama. I did not understand at the time why I responded to her the way I did, but I knew it was wrong. At this point, at 26, I did not remember the great years my mama and I had when I was little. I was so rooted in the bad years that I figured every time she said, “You’ll see when you have a daughter.” was going to come true that I was set on avoiding it at all costs. So, I figured if God would give me sons, everything would be okay and I could have a happy family. I did not think I could have a happy family raising a girl.
I said this and so much more to my husband standing in the parking lot. I was so afraid he would be upset with me and be angry with me, but I had to tell him why I was crying. He hugged me so hard and that cute little boy was holding onto my fat legs. He prayed over me, over our family, and said none of that would happen to us. I think this was the moment that I started to long for my mama again. I had spent years getting her out of my system and for the first time in a long time, I wanted her back.
That little girl scared me when she came into this world. She was so nosey. She watched me like a hawk. My son had been so independent. He was good as long as he was fed, dry, and rested. But not Lil Gal. She demanded that we pay attention to her. She talked early, she crawled early, she walked early, and when it was time to go to kindergarten, she told me with so much confidence, “You can go now.” Now, you know I cried as I walked to my car. She was already playing with the other children when I ran back in the building to look through the door window of her classroom.
I love her so much that it scares me. Probably because I risked not loving her based on past pains and disappointments. I risked putting onto her what I experienced as a child and it would have been so unfortunate – for the both of us. Our relationship is so much like the one I had with my mother in that we are highly sensitive to the energy of each other. Our relationship is so different from the one I had with my mother because the energy is positive and focused. My mother and I were negative and distracted – she with her pain and me with my pain. We stopped trusting each other and it nearly destroyed us (that’s a story for another day).
So, I have been honest with Lil Gal. I’ve shared this story with her. She knows I did not want a girl but I wanted her. I wanted her because she is a living example of God’s restorative power. She is a living example of what can happen when a broken and distracted girl grows up and commits her life to serving Christ to raise her family. She is a living example of the light that was overshadowed in my childhood. I am so thankful God did not give me what I wanted but instead what I needed – his forgiveness and restoration.