Yesterday I sat in the sonographer’s office awaiting the results of the ultrasound. She handed my husband an Almond Joy as opposed to the Mounds in her other hand. I watched as she handed it to him and began to cry. He had no idea what was going on. He thought she was giving it to Elsa. I could tell that it finally sunk in as the biggest smile arose on his lips. “A boy. Oh my God! That’s great!” I couldn’t say anything. I just sat there crying. I’m not sure why exactly. It certainly wasn’t out of sadness. I was simply moved. I wasn’t expecting a boy, so shock was definitely one of the first things I experienced, but I was moved. Just moved. The idea of having a little boy inside of me made me feel even more protective than I already felt as a mother. I see my daughter as this very strong personality and can brush the dirt off when she falls. She doesn’t cry. She just gets up and moves on. Now I think about this little boy––sure to be equally––if not more so, rough and tumble than his sister and it excites me.

I can’t wait to meet him. His tiny little hands and feet. His beautiful eyes… all of it. I was working out today and I wrapped my arms around my belly as if to give him a little hug. “Hi baby,” I said. “I know we don’t know one another yet, but I love you so much.” I may complain about being pregnant and all of the physical and emotional upheaval that comes along with it, but I love this baby inside me with everything I am––and everything I want to be.