Boy Mom

I still find the term “boy mom” to be a welcome one.  I love my boys with my entire heart and there was a time when Caleb and Joshua were my only children that I truly was a boy mom.  But that changed the day I saw pink inside of a cupcake.

I remember that day like it was yesterday.  I had always dreamed of what it would be like to have a daughter of my own, and deep down inside, I had felt that Madelyn was a girl.  But I tried not to think about it too much, as we would have been overjoyed with another boy.  All children are a gift, and we were truly blessed to be expecting our third.  I don’t remember how loud I was screaming in the middle of our favorite Mexican restaurant surrounded by family, but it must have been pretty loud, because the next thing I remember after seeing pink icing was Caleb screaming, “stop screaming, Mommy!”  It was quite the scene.  When I finally caught my breath and realized everyone was staring at us, I somehow tearfully managed to say, “we’re having a girl!”  All the dreams I had.  All the visions of walking hand in hand with a mini version of myself.  All the hopes of someday raising a girl of my own, and all that entails.  Overjoyed does not even begin to describe what was taking place in my heart.

I spent hours and hours in sweet Madelyn’s nursery, preparing for her.  I hand made and hand painted.  I sang to her and prayed over her.  I joyfully bought dresses and bows.  Everything pink.  Everything delicate.  Everything a baby girl could ever want or need.  I simply could not wait.  Joshua was too young to truly understand, but Caleb was not.  He would kiss my belly and sing to her too.  He was so excited about a baby sister.  We all were.

Then the unthinkable happened.  I hear the words “I can’t imagine…” all the time.  I’ve been through it, and I still can’t imagine it myself.  All my dreams and hopes, ripped from me in a moment.  Our baby girl was gone.

Somehow seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days.  Before we knew it, months had passed and we were slowly starting to live again.  Never forgetting, always aching, yet living.  It’s a complicated thing, but you learn to get used to living your life missing someone.  You still live, but you will forever, in some part, in every moment, ache.  But you also learn to allow God to carry you in ways you never realized He could, or that you ever thought you would need Him to.  How our family has grown in faith.  How He has revealed Himself to us in such beautiful ways.  Just over a month ago, our sweet Caleb accepted Jesus into his heart, at the tender age of four.  He sees life in a very real way that many children his age do not, yet still with the pure innocence and faith of a child.  Heaven is more real–Jesus is more real–to all of us because of Madelyn.  For these things we are truly thankful.

Last December, I had heard a word from God.  “December girl,” He whispered one day.  I still don’t know what those words mean, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I thought He was telling me another girl was on the way.  It made sense to me that God would redeem what we had lost and bring us another little sister to heal our hearts. Never, ever replacing Madelyn, for no child will ever take her place.  But the ache we have to hold our own girl here on earth is still there.  And then, our hope baby.  When I saw two pink lines after months of waiting and praying, it was pink icing screams all over again.  It was new joy filling my heart in an instant.  So when blue balloons emerged from the box our family decorated, it was a blur of emotions.  We had already chosen the name Samuel if it was a boy, and I immediately fell in love with him.  For the baby growing inside me, who he would become, the life I would know with him.  For how he was the perfect addition to our family.  Yet, at the same time, I felt an ache.  In a way, it was another loss.  My dreams and hopes for raising a girl of my own were once again shattered.  I felt hurt and confused.

It’s hard to explain, how you can feel two different things at once, neither one touching the other or knowing the other exists.  But you can.  And that’s what went on in my heart for a while.  My joy over Samuel had nothing to do with the confusion and hurt I was experiencing.  They were two completely separate things.  I wrestled with the Lord in ways I never had before.  I was so thankful to be a mother of four, and for precious Samuel.  But it didn’t make sense to me that out of four children, He had given us one girl, and she wasn’t with us.  Please understand my words.  I would never ever change anything or wish a different outcome.  I can’t imagine life without my sweet boys.  But I think it’s okay, and understandable, to say I was confused and angry at the circumstance.

There are times in your life when you simply are not strong enough to handle the emotions flooding from your heart.  This was such a time for me, and I am thankful I had become mature enough in my faith to know that it’s okay to reach out to others when you are struggling.  I asked for prayers from close friends, and talked–and talked–and talked–about what I was going through, and I never shied away from being honest with myself or others about how I was feeling.  All the while loving Samuel with the new part of my heart that was growing for him by the second, and all the while missing Madelyn in new, fresh ways.

And then, miraculously, one morning it lifted.  I woke up and quite simply, I felt release.  I had finally surrendered.  That’s a very hard word to explain, surrender.  And I don’t think it has a finite end.  I think it’s something that one must do over, and over, and over again.  My strong desire for another girl on this earth had come between me and God.  I thought about it more than I thought of Him.  He knew it, and I knew it.  But He is a God of miracles.  And He never gave up on me.  He listened patiently like a good Father as I yelled at Him, confused and brokenhearted.  And then, He did what He does best.  He healed my heart.  That Tuesday morning, I returned to Him.

So what does it mean to surrender?  Again, I think it’s a never ending process, but I do know that the thing that was consuming you before no longer is.  It just…lifts.  Do I think that by blessing us with Samuel God is saying that we won’t ever have another girl?  No.  What I do know is that I DON’T know His plans, and I am okay with that.  I know that our story, our family’s story, isn’t done being written.  I know that I have three beautiful boys.  Two I can kiss and hug, and one miracle that I will kiss and hug in just four short months.  I know that I have a baby girl in heaven, and heaven is real because of her.  She has taught me a new level of love, of hope.  Even though she isn’t here, even though my life doesn’t look like I thought it would the day I saw pink icing, it’s still beautiful.

So, in the flesh, I look like a boy mom.  And I can answer to that title and laugh and relate with other boy moms on all things boy.  And believe me, there is a lot of laughing.  And in the flesh, you may not see me braiding hair or clipping on bows.  But I am doing these things in my heart.  And if that is all I ever have, that is still enough.  Because God knows.  I know.  Madelyn knows.  Our family and friends know, that I am not a boy mom.  I am a mom of three boys and one girl.  A name that requires knowing both heaven and earth to understand.  A picture I will spend my life painting.  So that others know that picture–so that others know Jesus–too.