Flash forward to April of 2018, Delyn and I anxiously awaited the confirmation of our ultrasound technician regarding the gender of our sweet babe. I was confident I knew the outcome. We watched in amazement at the profile of this tiny human, “oohed” and “aahed” over each kick, and cried tears of joy as the reality of the life of our child unfolded before us. The technician announced with certainty that the baby in my belly was a BOY, and we were elated. But I have to admit that I was surprised, and honestly a bit confused. You see, the name God highlighted years prior was a baby girl’s name.
I’ve always connected with women and girls very easily. I can relate to just about any woman, regardless of age or life experiences. I believe the Lord has been able to use this and will continue to use this ease of connection to minister to women. It made sense, to me, for motherhood to bring more opportunity for connection and ministry. I considered the destiny of a little girl, and felt confident in my role as a “girl mom”. “Give me a whole tribe of girls,” I thought.
And suddenly, there I was… a boy mom. I was excited and apprehensive all at the same time. I had a Pinterest board full of DIY projects, nursery decor, and tiny clothes that I had to abandon and figure out just how to be a boy mom. Initially it kind of stung, and that’s really difficult to admit. The projects didn’t seem as fun. The nursery seemed limited. And the tiny clothes were much harder to come by. If reading this feels awkward or painful, imagine the vulnerability required to honestly write out these thoughts. I tried to stay focused on the purpose of this little boy, and all his future would bring. I prayed for him incessantly, and anticipated his arrival with great expectation.Things just felt different than I expected them to.
For the next few months I focused on research. I wanted to find the best stroller, the right crib, and all the bargains. It became somewhat of a second job. I was tired all the time, so that didn’t help. I continued to pray constantly over our little boy, and over my heart. I loved him so much, and yet I felt so torn each time I would see a friend or acquaintance announce that they were expecting a little girl. It was an unexpected and unwelcome twinge of jealousy. And I resented the jealousy, because I loved my boy.
Just before I hit the thirty-week mark, I had a surge of energy and excitement upon remembering a project that I could do: designing onesies. I ordered the supplies on Amazon, and started the projects as soon as they arrived. The teeny onesies were perfect. But the guilt that came over me when I realized this was the first project I’d worked on for Eli was thirty weeks into our journey soured the moment. And I resolved to do better. To be more intentional, to find projects that I could personalize, and to let myself be excited even though things looked different than I expected.
A few weeks later, Delyn and I made plans to hang up the nursery decorations. We planned for the main wall decoration to be a flag, created by our friend Charlotte, that declared Luke 2:40 over Elijah. In context, the scripture is about Jesus, but we felt that it was a beautiful declaration and example. “And the child grew and became strong in spirit, he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him”. It was beautiful, and brought me to tears, because it reminded me of what was important: Elijah’s purpose.
With the help of my father in law, the shelves were hung and the remaining furniture was configured. Delyn was so excited about it all coming together. And yet I was so unexpectedly disappointed. The room somehow felt too impersonal. It felt like something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was incredibly discouraged and unfortunately that rubbed off on my husband, stealing his joy.
The next day I drove around town, looking for the “perfect” decorations to magically tie the nursery together, and every store seemed like a failed attempt. Tears ensued at each stop. As I walked through the Hobby Lobby baby section I remember thinking how frustrating it was to see the beautiful girl decorations. “This would be so easy”, I thought. The boy section (per usual) was rather underwhelming compared to the girl section. And then it hit me. The nursery felt like a disappointment because I had never fully envisioned a finished boy nursery. My dream nursery was for the baby girl that I expected to carry. Oh, the guilt. Big tears. Real tears. Messy tears followed. Eli deserved the world. I mean, I know that babies don’t care about cribs and decorations and clothes, but he should always know that his parents anticipated his arrival with excitement and preparation. But I hated those silly, few nursery themes and hated even more that I was stuck on “stuff”. I’m not a possession person, so why was this such a central theme in my struggle?
I decided to move forward with projects that were personalized instead of generic, because it wasn’t about the money or even the aesthetic, it was about having a space that I would be excited to bring my baby home to. For the next week I worked tirelessly on learning how to create unique macrame wall hangings and spent every hour outside of work on finishing them quickly. On one of my Marshalls runs, I came across a sweet little globe that matched the mirror above his dresser and remembered that Delyn had requested we incorporate a globe. He purchased a few watercolor prints. And we found a plant that would bring in some color and life. And before we knew it, the nursery was perfect for our little Elijah. Not because of the stuff. But because we could finally see ourselves in that very space with our little boy.
One of the most important and humbling lessons I’ve learned during this journey has been that it is not about me. It’s not about the things I buy for my baby, the nursery I decorate, or even my ideals about how to raise a child or what my role as his mom will be. It’s about submitting myself to the understanding that God has plans and purposes for this child (and my future babies) that far exceed my limited view. When I consider the destiny God has for him, I sink back in amazement. And I remind myself that just because I’ve carried this baby for nine months doesn’t mean that I’m the only one to influence or guide him. I consider the potential that his father will be able to pour into his identity, as he was shaped by the Father. It changes everything.
Last week as Delyn and I were eating lunch, our Youth Pastor approached us to share a thought that crossed his mind. A few months back, he approached Delyn and asked if he would preach at Youth one week in November when the Pastors will be away. He walked up to us with a big grin on his face, and said, “You know what I thought about the other day?”. We were intrigued. “When you preach in a few months, that will be the first time your son hears you preach. Isn’t that awesome?!”. Wow. That really hit us. The generational implication of a son hearing his father preach resonated deep in my spirit. What a foundation. We’re raising a little boy who will grow into a man of God. And while that is a huge responsibility and honor, it is one that I have to step back and thank the Lord that He graced me with a husband who will be able to lead our family and serve as the example for this son we’ll soon meet. The pressure and responsibility of being a “boy mom” is no longer insurmountable. Because the “boy dad” who I get to raise him alongside has been set apart for this exact purpose.