Tiny Little Shoulders

I have been reading through the dozens of posts that are sitting in "draft" right now and realized that I never came back to share the story of our anatomy ultrasound.  Obviously, things went well and we are now just four weeks from our due date but it seemed a story worth sharing.
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Thankfully, everything went wonderfully and we got some extremely clear pictures so there is really no doubt that we will be welcoming another little boy into our family soon.  Provided that all goes well in the weeks to come, there should be no reason for us to have to visit the specialist again.

While we were there, the ultrasound tech asked the girls if they thought they were getting a little sister or a little brother...despite the fact that they have both said "boy" several times throughout the pregnancy, they both enthusiastically indicated that they wanted a little sister.  Much to their dismay, the picture paused on the screen overhead told a different story.  To our surprise, Tori stomped her little foot and reacted pretty strongly to the news.  Thankfully, it was short-lived but she was visibly displeased for the rest of the ultrasound.  We were a little puzzled because it was pretty out-of-character behavior for her, but she was at least quiet for the rest of the appointment.

We stopped at the restroom on the way out of the hospital - Tori came with me while Abby decided to stay with Daddy.  That gave me a quiet moment to ask her about why she was so upset with the news that we would be getting another baby boy...there was nothing that could have prepared me adequately for her response.  When most parents ask that question, they expect any number of answers ranging from "I don't like boys" to "I want someone to play dress up!"

What I discovered in that quiet restroom with my nearly tearful four year old was that she had become convinced that "all little brothers go to Heaven" and that this new development meant that our baby wouldn't get to stay with us this time either. I think I literally felt a piece of me die inside when I realized the magnitude of the grief and anxiety that the tiny little person in front of me was shouldering.  What on Earth was I supposed to do with that?

The only thing I could do was to pull her close, hug her tight, tell her that this little baby was as healthy as he could be right now and that we would do everything we could to get to bring him home.

Notice anything about those words? I couldn't bring myself to promise her that this baby would be okay. I couldn't offer reassurances that we would get to bring a baby home this time.  I can't tell my little girl that everything is going to be all right.  I want to believe that all of those things are true and I wish with all my heart that I could make those promises, but the best that we have to offer is that we will try.