Now that you’ve heard the story leading up to now, you can probably understand why having 3 daughters is a blessing; a miracle no less. So when “poor you” comments get thrown around it doesn’t make me sad– it makes me angry. Why would you pity me for something I would never change. Why would you hope and wish for me a different outcome when I have the best one already– 3 beautiful, healthy babies. Why was this ingrained in my mind since I was a little girl? Why is this even a thing?! That also makes me angry. That this is even a topic of conversation.

Since I mean for this story to be fully transparent I will tell you something that I am ashamed of. I feel sick about. I know deep down isn’t my fault but doesn’t make me less disappointed in myself.

When we found out our second baby was going to be a girl I had a slight blip of anxiety. Not that it was a girl. It wasn’t that at all and I can say that with full confidence. Why? Because all my life I wished I had a sister. I have a brother whom I love but a bond between sisters is just different. Any girl with a sister will tell you that. It’s like a ride or die, best friend for life. You may not always get along but you always have each others back. So it wasn’t about my daughter getting a little sister– I was ecstatic about that fact. But what that pit in my stomach was about was that I knew I would have to hear these awful comments that I just did not want to have to listen to. Feel shitty about. Be made to feel lesser than. Have my unborn baby be insulted before she’s even here because of her gender. How awful. No mother can stand for that. Nor should she have to.

And that’s exactly what happened. I heard the comments. So. Many. Comments. Followed by questions. Questions about what our plans were now. When were we going to try for another? Because of course we couldn’t be done. Why? Well because we didn’t have a son yet, of course. I would literally stew in my thoughts before someone would come to visit to prepare myself for what they might say so I could control my reaction. If you know me you know (and if you don’t I’m about to tell you, lol) I run on hot. If I’m mad, sad, angry, hangry– you’ll know it. So I told myself, as I stewed, that the comments were going to come so I just needed to be prepared and take it calmly. Just laugh it off and move on. Not burst into inconsolable tears or rip them a new one like I normally would. Let me tell you– that, to this very day, is my BIGGEST regret. Holding back is not true to me; to my character; to me as a mother. I was putting someone else’s ignorance before my own feelings. I put their brash, unsolicited comments before my love for my unborn baby. No mother should have to do that. And don’t you worry– I made up for my mistake.

So then you can imagine what happened to me when I found out baby number 3 was also a girl. I broke down. I literally wept. I had what is called “gender disappointment”. At the time I had no idea that was even a thing. All I knew was that I felt awful about the gender of my baby and I wished I didn’t. I wished so much that I could just be happy the way I knew I wanted to be. I was pregnant for the third time! Me! MEEEE! The one they told had a 20% chance of having a baby at all. How ungrateful a person was I for being upset. People would kill to be in my position and here I am crying about this wonderful news. How dare I. It ate at me. It messed with my head and my heart. It affected my mental health. That’s where I drew a line and never looked back. My children– my girls– we’re all precious to me and I was not going to be made to feel bad that they weren’t a boy. They would not be anyone else’s to discuss in any way.

Feeling awful and in need of love, reassurance and strength– I took refuge in my husbands arms. My safe place. He always understood me. He always supports me. He knows me. He knew I’d come back. And I did.

The final round up of thoughts next week.