I have a confession to make. It is lame, embarrassing, and incredibly trivial.
Having acknowledged that... here we go.
I was not happy to find out I was having a girl.
At my 20-week ultrasound, when the tech told my husband and me that a baby girl was headed our way, my heart sunk.
I almost cried right then and there. And later, alone, I did cry.
Trust me, I know how actually crazy and insanely selfish it sounds. After all, I should be grateful that conceiving and bearing children is even possible for me. After all, I should be overflowing with joy that at that appointment all was found to be healthy and strong. After all, I have literally zero control over the 50/50 odds. After all, I should count my blessings and just be quiet. So I was.
You see, I had very few close girl friends growing up. The rest were guys. Guys were easier, less dramatic (for the most part), and also just naturally infused into my life through having only brothers, being around all of their friends, and the fact that most of the families in our neighborhood and church community had either all boys or a boy majority.
Boys, boys, boys. Everywhere. Always. So wouldn't being a boy mom just make sense? "Send me all the boys and I'll just sit back in my comfort zone and soak it in," I thought. But it's funny how rarely God lets us stay comfortable.
Another reason having all boys was my hope is because of how tricky the mom-daughter relationship can be. I watched many girl friends of mine struggle with their relationship with their mom at different points in their life, and struggle hard. Some are still in that struggle. My own mom and I also had our rough patches and it always seemed, at least through my teenage eyes, that her relationship with my brothers was just better, smoother. Wouldn’t it just be better to have all boys and avoid it altogether?
And then there’s the final reason for my reaction, and definitely the biggest one: fear. What if I am not good at being a girl mom? What if she has hobbies and interests that I just can't relate with? What if she is shy and quiet - I've never been either and would not have the slightest clue what to do with that. What if she hates me? What if do everything wrong? What if our relationship is rocky and it’s specifically because of me? Ugh. All the thoughts.
So there I was, unhappy with my situation and feeling entirely inadequate, while also feeling stupid because my struggle was so small compared to the problems of many around me. These doubts and fears and worries and guilt lingered on my heart and in my head up through the final week of my pregnancy.
And then God did what He so often does. After letting me sit in my struggle, He waited for me to come to Him with it. He waited patiently and steadily.
One day, about a week before my induction date, I hit my knees while my toddler napped. I very openly admitted things that surely the God of the Universe already knew I felt. I told Him of my disappointment to have a girl and how that disappointment was rooted in a paralyzing fear I didn't know how to shake. I told Him I was terrified that my relationship with my little boy would suffer with this new baby. I cried a lot, but I also felt so heard, so seen, so understood. There wasn't an immediate answer or resolution to my problems, but I actually found that refreshing. No fixing, just pure empathy. I simply unloaded my heart, and God simply listened.
A couple days later, I think I was folding laundry or something, God did what He so often does: He taught me when I was ready to learn. Words and feelings that were not my own flowed into my heart and mind as I, almost in an instant, had my heart completely changed about this little girl joining us soon. God taking the time to hear me, comfort me, and open my eyes reminded me of a visual that I used often while teaching seminary:
I would use it to explain that sometimes as flawed humans we fall into the trap of comparing our own issues and struggles to others'. We create this sort of mental bar graph to compare and contrast, and we end up thinking that because someone's burden seems far heavier than ours, we should just grin and bear it. But perhaps God sees it all from a higher vantage point... viewing our graph from above. Maybe, looking down with love and compassion, He simply sees. Not comparing, not placing us in a queue to be dealt with according to severity of our situation. He sees, He loves, He helps.
And help me He did, even in my own seemingly small struggle. Here are a couple of the things that came to me:
1. It’s okay to fear, just come to me with that fear. It’s okay to be disappointed, just maybe don’t sit with it and let it fester for too long. It’s okay to feel inadequate; you probably would be if you were on your own, but you're not.
2. You can raise this little girl and raise her well. There are specific things that you have lived that have prepared you for a daughter, this daughter. You can teach her to know God and know herself. You can help her learn how to handle this world with confidence and how to navigate the specific nonsense that is junior high and high school. You are capable because I am capable. I will help you, just keep coming to me.
Then came the third thought. This one was my favorite by far.
3. You are exactly the marriage for this little girl.
Not mom. Not person. Marriage. Me and my husband. This one brought on the waterworks as I pictured Tanner as the dad to this baby.
I could see him playing with her and learning to braid her hair. I could see him helping her paint her little nails. I could see him teaching her how to pray and holding her when she cries. I could see him being her best friend and confidant. I could see him attending her games or art shows or debates or pageants or whatever in the world she finds passion in - he would be there. I could see him worrying about her and taking the time to wisely counsel her and guide her. I could see him hurting for her when she gets her heart broken for the first time. I could see him being absolutely everything that a little girl, this little girl, deserves from a father.
It was actually one of my first impressions of Tanner when we started seriously dating. This man would be an amazing father, especially to a little girl. And, boy, was I right.
On Friday, December 16, 2022 at 7:12pm, Navy May Lewis officially made us a family of 4. She was small, but her little cry was strong. She is perfect in every way and we are absolutely smitten. And, I confess, there is nothing but joy that she is here, nothing but excitement for our future with her, and nothing but complete gratitude for a God who sees my own struggle, loves me through it, and always, always, always finds a way to help.
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