I Just Haven’t Met You Yet

Me and BB.
Me and BB.

I am officially over the hill. As in, I now have fewer weeks to be pregnant to go than more weeks. I am 21 weeks and 1 day (but who’s counting?) So far, this has been my easiest pregnancy yet and that is truly an answered prayer. I won’t go in to the icky details of my pregnancies with the boys, let’s just say I spent a lot of time in the bathroom. With Little Brother (LB), I also had several illnesses that were unrelated to the pregnancy in addition to all the fun quirks of growing a human.

This little girl is giving me a reprieve and I am so grateful. Ty has always wanted three children and I was willing to be convinced. So here we are, in the final stretch of babyhood and in the beginning of raising a young woman.

I’ve been pretty nervous about having a girl. So many people react with delight as though I was playing baby roulette on this round in the hopes that I would finally get my princess. When I was first pregnant with Big Brother (BB), I felt unsure as to what I would do with a boy. Now, I feel the same for this sweet girl.

Then I remembered that I specifically prayed that I would only get pregnant if I would be able to handle it and if it would be good for our family. Life will be different with the birth of this third child than it was with my second. BB will be in preschool when she is born. LB will be about four months older than BB was when he was born, so my toddler will be a little older. And maybe this child will call me just to say hi even when she has moved out and started a family of her own.

I love having boys. No costume changes, no accessories other than the silly kind, no fear of dirt and lot less finagling of clothing when it’s time to use the potty.

LB accessorizes with two hats and Gigi’s glasses.

I am also doing some preemptive letting go. They’ll probably want to do a trip with their dad upon graduating high school than with me. That’s cool. They will need me for fewer things as they grow which is good and right but also a little heartbreaking. I’m learning a new language to speak respect to my sons as encouragement rather than lavishing words of love on them.

Perhaps God knew I needed a girl. Perhaps He saw that our family needed an extra dose of estrogen to help enlighten the men in the house and encourage me to remember that I really am a woman and not just a near-dead mommy with big hair. Perhaps He saw a world that needs a strong woman who can play trains with the best of them and still know all the words to Frozen (oh dear God, please let another movie become the rage). Perhaps He didn’t want to waste my knowledge of tampons, boys and unruly hair.

The truth is I am proud of all of my children. I am proud of the young man I see in BB, his sensitive spirit, his humor and crazy ability to retain information (just like his father). I am proud of LB’s incredibly strong will, his zest for life and how he adores his BB. I am proud of the little girl growing within me, the woman she can become and the perfect addition she makes to our family.

Ty and I went to the Michael Buble simulcast of Tour Stop 148 last night. It was a one-time showing of the behind-the-scenes of one of his stops on a tour. I believe it’ll be out on DVD at some point, but it was incredible. As he went through several songs, I was struck by how his music has been present at so many turning points in my life. From a time in Atlanta when I felt truly lost and circled I-285 listening to Lost for an hour, to the last dance at our wedding, to listening to Haven’t Met You Yet during all of my pregnancies as an ode to my children. Even now, it’s one of the only artists we listen to in the car. BB is just too literal and I really can’t find the words to explain what Taylor Swift is talking about to my three-year-old.

Right now I am in my sweet spot of parenting: I have two children who can walk and talk. They sleep 10 to 12 hours every night. They eat food that comes from the store. One of them uses the toilet.

I know that in just a few months it’s going to be really rough. I won’t sleep. I will remain pudgy for several months even up to a year. My core will shake as I lean over to empty the dishwasher from having my abs stretched to beyond oblivion. My hair will fall out. I will miss my husband. And the biggest horror of all: my eldest will stop napping.

But I know that is just a phase and before I know it I will have three children who can walk and talk. They will all sleep 10 to 12 hours every night. Most of them will nap. We will vacation together. They will sing silly songs and regurgitate things I’ve said when I thought no one was listening. They will chase each other around the house shrieking and giggling while Ty and I sit at the dinner table watching them in amazement that they are able to entertain themselves.

And then one day they won’t be children anymore. Already I see a 13-year-old in the face of my 3-year-old. I will have young men and a young woman roaming through my house with their own dreams and ideas. They’ll move out (Ty and I will celebrate by traveling through Europe) and begin their own journey.

Well, I’m crying now, so I have to stop. I wrote all this to say I am looking forward to meeting our little girl and seeing our family completed.

Someday it’ll all turn out. And you’ll make me work so we can work to work it out. I promise you kid, to give so much more than I get. I just haven’t met you yet.

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