I’m pregnant with my second. I’m blessed and grateful to be a mother to a perfect, sweet, darling nearly three year old prince who is my heart’s most precious love.

I was so sure this baby was going to be his little sister. I’m a little surprised to realize, upon finding out that the baby I’m carrying is a boy, how much I was hoping for that.

I’ve had some bleeding with this pregnancy which has had me on my knees praying for this baby’s safety. I found out that the NIPT results look perfect. Overjoyed, of course. I heard that it was a boy, and to my shock and frankly, disgust with myself, I was fighting tears.

I was always super nice to women who came on here talking about gender disappointment, but I admit I always kept a little side eye to myself. Your baby is healthy, I would think. Come on now. Why get so wrapped up in gender?

I was so sure a little girl was coming I even had a name picked out. (Stupid, I know.)

I’m not disappointed that a little boy is coming. But I do feel grief that a little girl never will. I’m 34. My husband and I agree that this is our last baby. I’ll never have a daughter. Alice Elizabeth will never be my little girl.

I don’t have a good relationship with my mother. My relationship with my mother in law is cordial at best, sometimes tense. I guess that warm, loving, mother-daughter relationship will just always be a hole in my life.

I want to be grateful for his health. I want to bond with this baby. Please help me pick myself up, ladies. I hate myself for feeling this way.