“Boy or girl?”
Probably the #1 and most natural question for people to ask when they notice a pregnant belly, right? A handful still ask, “Do you know what you’re having?” But most assume that we know, and that makes sense. I’m not sure on percentages, but certainly more people find our their baby’s gender these days than not. And that’s totally cool.
We’ve chosen not to find out whether we’re having a boy or girl for the third time in a row, although I have to admit, there a lot of days that I’d love to know. I still enjoy holding out on the surprise more than knowing, so I just have to stick to that mindset in ultrasounds. Seems simple enough, but there are times when having answers to life’s questions just. feels. better. The gratification might be temporary, and yet, it’s really hard to wait for pieces of the puzzle, isn’t it?
When I look to the future, I feel like so much of our life these days is a question mark. Arguably, we’re never guaranteed anything, so it’s really not fair to take anything for granted. But it sure is easier to feel like we *kind* of know what’s coming next, and right now, I can’t see past a few days at a time.
I know we’re counting down to baby, and I can guesstimate how much time we have between now and meeting our little boy or girl. That might be all that feels set in stone at the moment, so life is feeling quite a lot like pregnancy, with all of its surprises and the waiting; with all of the hoping and all of the times I try to open my hands up to God in surrender and prayer.
None of this is awful. I realize I’m staying cryptic about some things for now, and when the time is right, I’ll share more candidly as it feels fitting. I’m trying to process this limbo-like space responsibly, which is why I’m not ready to share my whole hand. Much of it may be very good, and some of it might be hard. Most of it will probably be both hard and good, and I’m ok with that reality. I trust that all of it will stretch me and shape me more into the woman that God is calling me to become, and I’m great with that part.
Pregnancy has so many beautiful ups and downs. It’s the perfect physical/mental/emotional/spiritual roller coaster that most often ends as one of the greatest thrill rides of our lives.
When I want to know this baby’s gender, or I want to be able to see the future and have all of the answers and feel like I’ve got life “figured out,” I just remind myself how much I absolutely love the reward of waiting to know the whole story.
When this baby is born and Jason announces, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” there will be very little else to top that moment in my memory book. Meeting our babies and finding out who they are has been the very greatest surprise each time. Even when my heart has had a hunch, I’ve gained so much from trusting that whatever gender our baby might be, it’s exactly what God has planned for our family.
I can rest there. I can have so much peace in that holding space.
And so it is with many other areas of our life as a family right now. Jason and I are asking ourselves all kinds of good and hard questions about the future, what’s best for our family from many angles, and how we want to cultivate our values, goals and beliefs as a unit.
It’s a season of evaluation–one of becoming more introspective as we put our ears to the ground and try to glean what God’s best might be for the next weeks, months, and years ahead.
Life is pregnant with possibility, and that is beautiful. As this belly grows toward some hopeful “knowns” and a greater number of unknown surprises, too, I want so much to rest in a trusting place. My heart is to put what we can’t see on the table each day and to offer it up, whether for more pieces of the puzzle to land where they belong, or for wisdom and strength as we continue to work at being people with our hands open and our lives surrendered.
As with carrying a baby for nine months and undergoing change in more obvious ways, I’m changing on the inside just as much or maybe more. There is work to be done in me that I cannot see, but that I can anticipate fully as I wade through the waiting. At the end of the story, there’s always more than my human heart can imagine.
it seems a bit sweeter that way.