My audience left, and the flood of salty tears and uncontrollable snot came. A nurse came in the exam room to ask if I was okay, and I sobbed on her shoulder trying to explain: I knew this baby was to be our last, and I was crushed that we were having another boy. We'd prayed, read books, prayed more, timed things and according to my plan this baby was supposed to be a girl. A precious, cute girl with curly brown hair and a smile like a flash of lightening. I knew her, I'd seeing her in MY dreams, vividly, for years.
My situation became clear a few days later. I realized I was mourning more than the fact I would never be a smocked dress-black patent-shoes-braiding-hair-planning-a-wedding-girl-mama. I was carried away in a raging torrent of grief over my dream dying.
A wise friend called about a week later and told me, "Maybe God's making room for something else. Something you couldn't dream. Something better than YOUR dream..."
So five years ago, we had another boy. The one my precious yoga teacher promised in her thick Spanish accent would be a lover. The one my daddy prophesied I would love more than I could imagine.
But what I really got 5 years ago was fresh little pink toed perspective. Beginning to believe His plan is more magnificent than any dream I could ever conjure up.
linked to the most fabulous girl-mama to be, Lisa-jo