A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine had a sweet little baby girl and named her Natalie. Natalie Mae. Isn't that the sweetest name? I personally love it, because it's so similar to the name Danny and I had chosen for our some-day baby girl the first time we got pregnant 10 years ago. Our choice was Natalie Jade, and we were going to call her "Tallie."
For some reason, that name just stuck. With all three pregnancies, once we knew we were having boys, we didn't really decide on the name until the boys were born. We usually had two choices in mind until we saw the little guy make his entrance into the world. With Sean, the second choice was Brady. And with Cameron, the second choice was Ethan. And lastly with Ethan, the second choice was Jacob.
But never with a girl; I pretty much never waivered on that name. I always loved it. And not necessarily because my great-grandma's name was Natalie (she went by Dolly) although I love that reason too. It was just her name. The name meant for our some-day baby girl. A name we never got to use.
And although I know my family is complete, it still pains me a little to hear of someone else getting their Natalie. Our Natalie. My Natalie. I read my friend's blog the other day and saw the sweet newborn pictures of Natalie Mae and could not stop the tears from spilling just a little. The decision to stop at 3 was not easy for me; Danny had pretty much been sure since after Ethan was born, but I just wasn't for a while. I wanted to know, without a doubt. It took me two long years of fasting and praying and temple attendance to get my answer. Though it took me a while, even when I received my without-a-doubt answer, I wasn't necessarily joyful over it. I felt complete and accepted the answer, but I wasn't necessarily happy about it. Does that make sense?
Yet I still feel the tiniest bit of loss knowing I'll never get to dress up a little baby girl in frilly dresses or curl hair or pierce ears. No Daddy/Daughter dates or sending off daughters to the prom. No training bras or laurel projects, no weddings to put on, and no daughter to overjoy with when she has her first baby. No one to share clothes with or take to Relief Society functions with. No staying up late giggling over chick flicks together and no mother-daughter duets around the piano.
Yeah, I feel a little bit of a loss. But I didn't feel it so much until someone else was blessed with the opportunity of their own baby Natalie to start fresh with. I actually dread the day I'll meet her for the first time (inevitable as we run in pretty similar close circles) in fear that I'll be unhealthily jealous. The thought of holding her for the first time and feeling what might have been--it already gets me emotional.
I guess I should say something now about how lucky I am to have three wonderful boys who are healthy and spunky and all so different in their little personalities. And I guess I should mention how much I love them and would not trade them for any baby girl ever ever ever. And I guess I should delight in the wondeful family Heavenly Father has blessed me with and put under my stewardship.
I should. But for just this minute, let me mourn the loss of someone I'd wanted for 10 years but won't get to meet, at least in this life. For just this minute, let me cry.
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