When I was younger, whenever I would picture myself with a child, it was always vividly a little girl. A little blonde girl. It wasn’t until I actually became pregnant the first time that I was able to imagine that scene with a little boy there instead. I could finally see the same scenarios played out with either a girl or a boy. And he ended up a boy.
When I was pregnant the second time, all I could picture was another boy. Try as I might, that little girl was gone. OH was so certain that this second one would be a girl, because my pregnancy was so different from the first time, but I knew that it was a boy. No rhyme or reason, I just felt it so strongly.
And he was. And I’m a boy mom twice over. I’m not confident anymore that I’ll ever meet that little girl from my early dreams, and I’m actually at peace with that.