Another Boy -- my thoughts

The moment I found out I was pregnant with Cohen, I immediately hoped for a girl. I got sucked in to the hype of all the cute little girl clothes and accessories. And pink! And dolls! And and and! By the time I hit the second trimester, however, I was more than convinced that he was a boy. I could just feel it. I'm pretty sure that if I didn't already have those suspicions, I would have been pretty disappointed when we found out his sex. And that makes me feel horrible now because I just love that little guy so much. But at the time? I really thought I wanted a little girl.

So when we found out we were expecting a new baby, of course I thought about whether it'd be a boy or girl. I thought about it a lot. Probably because Cohen insisted that it was a little sister (he was also pretty adamant about there being "two babies" in there, so thankfully he's not a clairvoyant). Maybe because everyone's first question after they learned our news was, "Are you hoping for a girl?"

Honestly, after nearly a year of hoping and praying for this baby, I just wanted a baby. I didn't care if it had six toes on one foot, I wanted it. I recently came across a blog post that I never completed. I don't know where I was headed with it, but I think it illustrates perfectly where I was at (I wrote it about a month before I found out I was pregnant):

Today is August 8, 2012 ... 2 days shy of Cohen turning 21 months old and exactly 10 months since we started trying to get pregnant with Baby #2.
I don't kid myself: 10 months is not a terribly long time to try for a baby. I know of women and have heard stories of women who went years without conceiving. Some were never able to become pregnant. So I know that 10 months really is just a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme. But 10 months ... 10 cycles ... 10 "failures"... 10 disappointments... they have a way digging at your heart.
With Cohen, it took us 7 months, and looking back, I wouldn't trade it for anything, even though each negative test broke my heart then as much as they do now. Why? Because I have Cohen, and he's more than I could ever deserve. And what if I got pregnant on month 4? I wouldn't have Cohen. I try to remind myself of this fact daily, especially when I'm feeling particularly beaten down. God has a plan, and if His plan is for me to have another child, then He will give me the perfect child for me. That time just hasn't come yet.
During this time of waiting, I've learned a very important truth: God doesn't bless other people to punish me. Since the first negative pregnancy test back in October, I have congratulated 12 other women on their pregnancies. I won't lie, at first it hurt (it still hurts). More than anything, I felt sorry for myself. Why do they get a baby and I don't? But as time goes by and I draw closer to the Lord, I begin to understand that their pregnancies are not meant to punish me. God loves me too much for that. He knows my heart, my desires, my wounds, and my fears. He knows me better than I know myself. And His plan for me is perfect, even when I don't understand it or like it or want it.

Very early in this second pregnancy, I once again developed an overwhelming feeling that he was a boy. And you know what? I was super happy about it, right from the start. Cohen will have a brother, a playmate, a best friend. When I daydream about the future, I envision my boys playing trains and trucks and building forts together. I see days filled with baseball practices and games. Bikes and dirt and grass stains. I see the teenage years where I complain about them sleeping all day and eating all the food in the house. I pray they grow into men of God.

I cannot wait for this house full of boys. I know that it is what the Lord has prepared for me, and I welcome it. And honestly? Now that I am on this path, the thought of a daughter seems foreign to me. I remember a comment someone made when I found out Cohen was a boy: "You seem like a boy mom." Back then, I didn't understand what that meant or how special that was. But now? I'm starting to see. A boy mom. A woman God picked to raise boys into men.

 I can think of no more honorable job than that.