Becoming a boy mom

Becoming a "boy mom" is so strange to me. At the beginning of my pregnancy, I was 100 percent convinced that we were having a girl. We had to have a girl - it's all I could wrap my head around.

I knew I could be a great girl momma - bows, ruffles, dance lessons, all things Audrey Hepburn. I have the girl world down pat. I've always loved pink and sparkly. How fun would it be to have my own little girl to co-host tea parties and dress dolls with? I could picture it perfectly.

Then, I heard the words... "You're having a boy!" Erik gave my ankle a reassuring grab as the lab tech confirmed that we were having a little boy. A knot swelled in my throat.

What do I do with a little boy? Boys are dirty. They like mud. They play with rocks and sticks. They hunt animals - and then they want to bring them home. They are the opposite of me, and I was scared.

It's amazing how God uses those nine months to change your heart, and pretty quickly I started falling in love with this little boy. This boy who I was certain would grow up to be just like his daddy. And all of a sudden I couldn't imagine anything better.

Now that I get to be Reed's momma, I am completely sure that he was meant for our family. I adore this little man. He and his daddy are my whole world, and I don't think I could love either of them any more.

Sure, there are challenges - and there will be lots more to come. There aren't nearly as many cute boy clothes as there are girl clothes. The only accessories he requires is socks. I don't know all the rules for soccer, and I still don't like "creatures."

But I also know that I'll be a good "boy mom." I can cheer louder than any other mom on the sports field. I can pack killer snacks. I'll be a great respite when he breaks an arm/leg/collar bone and needs someone to let him cry. No one can ever replace his Momma. And I'm so proud that's me.