Boys, you are now the proud graduates of fifth and second grade — summer vacation has officially begun! I think it’s pretty safe to assume, based on this photo, there will soon come a day when I’ll have to crane my neck to talk to you. As I watch these changes happening so swiftly, I catch myself looking at you and thinking, Wow, these are my boys. The boys I prayed so hard for.
You’ve heard the story before, but it bears repeating — for archival purposes if nothing else. When I was first pregnant, I made it no secret I wanted a boy. Of course a healthy baby was priority number one, but beyond that my greatest hope was to deliver a baby boy. This became my fervent prayer.
During one of my routine ultrasounds, Dr. Francis would cautiously whisper, “Would you like to know what you’re having?” Moving the transducer over my belly, she showed me on the sonogram where Cash’s little boy parts were and I gasped. “Papi, did you hear that? It’s a boy!” I said, elbowing him frantically. Dad was wearing headphones (mundane check-ups required a soundtrack at this point) so it took him a second to react to what I was saying. “Wait - What?! Did you just say it’s a boy?” he blurted, yanking out his earbuds. “Yes! It’s a boy — it’s a boy Papi! I’m so happy!”
Dr. Francis, who has become a dear friend over the years, said to me recently, “Remember when you were ‘One and Done’? … You were so set on it — and just look at you now with your two boys!” She’s right though. Dad and I both were content with our decision to be parents of an “only”. I even considered a hysterectomy which Dr. Francis flatly refused. Her rational was if something, God forbid, were to happen to Cash, I would be robbed of the choice to have another child. Even so Dad and I still felt having Cash was enough. That is, until that fateful Sunday morning at Redeemer when a baptism was taking place. Sitting in the pew watching the families on stage, all of which had more than one child, something came over me; tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. As Dad and I walked out of church with toddler Cash in tow, I sheepishly turned to him and said, “I think I want to have another baby.”
For me, having another baby meant longing for another boy. I have always imagined same sex siblings forming a deeper bond; as brothers I felt you’d be closer, in the long run. But I had always wanted boys too, from my earliest memories growing up. Besides, boys adore their mothers — they just do.
The second time around, I was alone in the room with Dr. Francis when she asked if I wanted to know the baby’s gender. Finding out we were having another boy, I could barely call Dad fast enough. I almost never call him at work but this was obviously urgent. “Is everything okay? What happened?” Dad asked, worriedly, as he tried to decipher what I was saying through my panicky gasps. “Yes! Yes! Everything’s fine!” I managed to get out. “It’s a boy! — I can’t believe it! — it’s another boy!” Dad and I had already decided that no matter the gender, the name would be the same, and now we knew with certainty and gratitude … Grey Davis was indeed a boy.
Leaving the doctor’s office, I called my mom next. She knew how much I yearned for this and had been praying alongside me. Swapping excitement through the phone, I felt as if I was swirling, twirling, floating through the city streets. Pure unadulterated joy. It’s clear God didn’t plan for us to be parents of an only child. It is by divine design that Grey came into this world to join and complete our family, fulfilling the deepest longings of my heart that I didn’t even know were there.
I love you boys.
Always and forever