Kathi and I are having a boy. Well, we’re about 90% sure our growing bub is a boy. Two sonographers are fairly certain and that’s gotta count for something, right?
We’re over the moon about the news. We’re arguing over a list of names we’ve not considered previously and trying to decide whether to decorate the bub’s room farm and jungle animals, castles and dragons, or spaceships and dinosaurs (which somehow seem to go nicely together).
The weirdest thing about the revelation is that we are suddenly and quite unexpectedly hit with grieving for our girls all over again. I reckon if we had been told our bub was a girl we would not be going through this. Even though there is no way we could ever think that this bub could possibly be a replacement for our lost angel princesses, the idea of having a boy is somehow strangely foreign and mildly disturbing.
Perhaps, we figure, we’re not mourning Charlotte and Marianne so much as the loss of all the hopes and dreams we had for them, all the daydreaming we did in which, for example, I’d be confronted by two determined young ladies in new clothes demanding to know which I thought the prettiest. We imagined them effortlessly reaching the heights of sporting, academic and career achievement. We saw ourselves celebrating with them their successes and helping them through the difficult times.
Dreams die hard and when the dream dies, what remains?
But now we’re expecting a boy. Yay us! For me, I’m going to have a little mate to help me do all those things I never actually get around to like landscaping the yard (still a disaster area after moving in eight years ago) and making minor repairs and renovations to the house (don’t pull that door handle or it comes off). I hope I can inspire in him a passion for science or the arts, literature or music. Maybe he’ll become a famous writer. Maybe he’ll play in bands. Maybe he’ll figure out exactly what role Lanthanum plays in jump drive coils and conquer interstellar travel.
Maybe. Maybe not.
The hopes and dreams slate has been wiped clean and we’re imagining a new set for our new bub. The only hope I can harbour right now is that I’m strong enough and smart enough to raise a boy into a man who will a better person than I am.