It’s A . . . what we’re having, and how we’re taking it all
August 3, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger
I’ve never had to wrestle a pair of tights onto kicking, squirming legs. Never had to untangle and braid a head of baby-fine hair. Never had to search through vacuum cleaner dust for Barbie’s other shoe.
No, these blessings have never been mine.
But also, I’ve never looked into my daughter’s wide-eyes face and caught surprising glimpses of my grandmother, sisters, mom. Never curled up with my daughter to watch Anne of Green Gables. Never got to lay into her arms my favourite childhood doll.
And probably, most probably, I never, ever will.
Because I have sons, you see.
Three of them.
And two weeks ago, in the cool, dim room at the doctor’s office, my stomach smeared with sticky gel, for the fourth time in my life I heard the words “It’s a boy,”
and with those three small words came the death of a dream.
I didn’t realize it at first.
Yes, I wanted a girl. To dress in tutus and lace, as opposed to dinosaurs and sharks. To shop with. Drink tea with. A little girl who would be like me in ways my wonderful sons could not.
But it’s taken a week
or more
to realize how much more than all that it meant to me.
Taken a week to realize the lifetime of hopes, plans, and expectations that I will have to bury along with my dreams.
When I was 13 I was given a journal. Instead of filling it with the usual teenage drama, I dedicated the book to my future relatives with love. I counted the pages, divided the book into thirds, and over the years filled the first section with photographs of myself, favourite quotes, and information about myself and my family. I planned to pass the journal on to my own daughter on her 13th birthday, and the middle section would be for her to fill out. She, in turn, was meant to give it to her daughter, my granddaughter.
I’ve always been aware of my heritage.Β The Brazilian side of my family. The Swedish side. And my place in the long line of women whose blood and genetics I carry in my own body. Those women who sailed to a strange new land to endure the harsh winds of a Minnesota winter. Contend with murderous Frenchmen and barn fires and drought. Or face the cramped conditions and sheer terror of being a foreigner in New York City.
I’ve heard their stories, watched the battles and triumphs that my own mother, aunts, and sisters have faced. I’ve felt my place among them. And I always thought I would one day add to that line with my own daughter.
She’d have my curls, I imagined. And when I married, I imagined those curls would be a wonderous, Scottish red. And when she was old enough, I’d tell her the stories of the women who had gone before her. The Brazilian side, the Swedish side, and now the Scottish side, too.
I’d tell her of the wonderful tapestries that God wove with the lives of these women, and paint pictures in her mind of the beautiful things she, with God’s help, would one day do.
Now I wonder what to do. What to do with that book? Or with the box of dress-up gloves, hats, and scarves? With my American Girl doll? My Mandie book collection?
What will I do with the name? With her name. The name I’ve whispered to myself, scrawled along the margins of my journal. The name of the little girl who will never come to be?
I’ll love my fourth son. Oh, how I’ll love him.
But having a daughter, I’ve realized, was an integral part of all I hoped my life would be. Like getting married, or writing, or seeing the world. It’s hard to imagine a life without any of those things, and it’s hard to imagine my life without her.
The day after I found out, I rose early. Crept through the house, my black Bible in hand, and went to the porch. Sat there a while in the refreshing morning coolness, with the song of the birds and the breeze in the trees.
And I cried. And I asked God why. Why, when I wanted it so much? When it came so easily to others. Even others who didn’t even want their girls.
But I know, from experience, that when God’s providences are not in line with our own desires, that it’s easy to seethe. Rage. Grow bitter inside. And I know all the damage that can do.
And so I’m choosing, though it hurts and I don’t understand it, to accept God’s will for my life. Knowing, believing, though I cannot see it, that God is in the habit of making beautiful things out of dust. Of weaving together strands, which to us seem fragmented and broken, and creating pictures more lovely than we ourselves could ever dream.
Posted in Inspirations, Parenting - Raising Wee Men | Tagged dealing with gender disappointment, family tree, gender disappointment, genetics, heritage, I always wanted a daughter, I wanted a boy, I wanted a girl, Raising boys, Raising Sons, Ultrasound | 14 Comments
Love your heart Avonlea β€ Praying for your journey and for that sweet little baby boy that is blessed beyond measure to belong to such a loving Godly family π β€
Sarah xox
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Thanks for your comment, Sarah! I always enjoy reading your blog. Thanks for all the truth you are continuing to share. β€
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I read your blog when I see the links on Facebook. I, too, am having a hard time coming to accept some of the “misfortunes” in my life and reading this gave me a sense of peace about my life and its direction and timing. Thank you.
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It’s taken me quite a while to reply, but thank you so much for your comment and for popping in to visit my blog! I hope you are continuing to feel God’s peace and leading even when things are difficult and don’t make any sense. He is there with you, with hand in front of you and one hand behind. Psalm 139:5. Stop in again anytime!
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Sister, I understand where your heart is and I shed some tears for you. I know how much you wanted this and I hope someday you will find solace in what God has planned for you. I love you. β€
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Have been thinking of you and my sweet nieces. Thank you for your love and encouragement. Yes, God does have plans for our every day. The thing is it remember that even during the disappointments and ordinary days. Love you!
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Sweet Avonlea! Wow! 4 boys! That is pretty amazing. Having 3 girls, I have often wondered what I am missing out on not having a son too! Let’s arrange some marriages and we can share in each others joy! Let’s just acknowledge the fact that you guys make darling boys so I can’t wait to meet the next one! I love you and pray for peace as you prepare for your little one!
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I had such fun continuing our discussion before we left for Scotland. I’m so glad I got to see you and hear more of your story. I hope your autumn has been full of lovely moments for you and your girls! xoxo
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This showed up on my fb news feed and I think I know you from way back when. Hard to forget your name. π Church, RBC, you may not recognize me since I was younger- your sister’s age. Maiden name is Osbun
I hope you don’t mind me commenting on your blog, but I was really able to relate to what you wrote since I recently had my fourth and final… BOY. Like you, I have a journal I started in my teens specifically for my daughter- not sure what I’m going to do with it now. π We also had a girl name that we LOVED…
In any case, there things that I just had to let go of- the hair thing mostly. I love to do hair. But I have nieces and neighbor girls.
And I secretly dream that someone will drop their unwanted baby girl off on my doorstep. But I always wondered what MY girl would be like and look like. And not ever getting to see that will always be hard for me.
But having four boys is really incredible.
People look at you with admiration when you walk around with your group of boys in tow.
You can address them all with “BOYS!”
And this one is just a theory, but “boy moms” tend to be thin- they keep you active!
They think EVERYTHING you do is beautiful. No girls in the house to compare you with. You are THE standard of beauty.
Anyway, thanks for the good read. Congratulations on another healthy baby boy!
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I’m a little late in replying, but I wanted to let you know that I still think about what you said in this comment–especially the part about boys thinking their mums are beautiful. Very sweet. Yes, there are benefits to being the only girl in the house. Thanks for sharing YOUR thoughts, and for your encouragement. And yes, of course I remember you! β€
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Avonlea you are such a lovely friend! When I heard about baby boy number four, my heart sank for you. But then I realised what a gift it is to have a child and to know that he was made in heaven for such a time as this.
I told mum your news and she said “how wonderful, this works needs more Godly men, and Avonlea is a lovely mum who can raise them.” Praying for your journey and looking forward to baby kisses this winter!
Mhairi xxx
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Mhairi,
Looking forward to seeing you and meeting your own wee man! Yes, we, and ours, were created for such a time. β€ β€ β€
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Avonlea, I understand. Maybe more than anyone… I understand.
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[…] this fourth son of mine. […]
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