When I fantasize about motherhood, the baby is never a boy baby. I have the same vision every time. Her daddy being so incredibly in love with her. Her idolizing him like I do, but in a daughterly way.
I think about how I would be the coolest mom ever if I could make all her baby food homemade and sew awesome simple little dresses for her (I don’t sew - I don’t even own a sewing machine) and love her like nobodies business.
My sister cried during the ultra sound when they told her that her baby was a boy. Both times! I was shocked, and embarrassed.
It is so ridiculous to get attached to a certain sex of a baby when, in reality, it is totally beyond our control. It’s up to God, not me. And in the back of my mind I have this sneaking suspicion that God might have something to teach this imaginary babies daddy that would require a male child.
