Shoes: Thinking pink, but she's a bit blue about third boy

Now that I am officially "full term," I could be welcoming our newest addition any day now.

I am at the point at which the world most definitely knows I'm pregnant and not just having put on a few pounds in my midsection; people are no longer afraid to ask about the obvious pregnancy.

The first question I get from most people is, "Is this your first?" To which I reply defiantly, "No, it's my third son." I am always careful to include the "son" part of this answer as it is the most important part of this third pregnancy. At least to me.

I get a variety of reactions, from "Congratulations!" (obviously, they have never had two preschool boys in their house) to "God has a special place in heaven for mothers of three sons" (usually a woman in her grandparenting years who had two sons herself) to "So are you going to try for the girl?" My response to the last is: "We did."

I know you can't really plan your family, you are only given what fate, destiny and/or God has in store for you. You might have the good fortune of easily getting pregnant and the fortitude to afford and use birth control, but being able to choose a sex, well that is still a mystery, even to doctors.

So although I was excited when I found out No. 2 was a boy, from that moment I was convinced that No. 3 would be a girl. I know we could have tempted fate and tried some of the more unconventional ways to have a girl, but I knew in my heart it comes down to luck and fate. And for me, I guess my fate is to be the mother of three boys.

My not-so-subtle humor about this baby is really there to help me work through the frustration, and since knowing, I have openly acknowledged my disappointment that we will likely never have a daughter.

I think only mothers who admittedly are trying for the "Hail Mary" of a final child to diversify their family will understand my disappointment. Even my mother-in-law was (and is) openly distraught about our newest addition's gender.

My nurse practitioner told me that women typically react worse to the sound of a third or fourth son than a third or fourth daughter. So I know I am not alone in my quest for a little princess.

There will be no pink in our house (aside from my wardrobe); there will be no baby dolls or Barbies (at least with their heads still on); there will be no father/daughter dances, ballet lessons, prom dress shopping, cheerleading or gymnastics (even if requested, according to Daddy); and no one in our house wants my old doll furniture or dance recital costumes, so they will remain in boxes.

Although I hear (and understand) the potentially great upside of never having the drama that comes with a hormonal teenage girl, my heart breaks just a little to think I will never have a mini-me in a dress and bow to play house or have a tea party with. I feel it particularly strongly when a friend's 3-year-old daughter comes out of nowhere to cuddle my "baby" and nestle her curly, bowed locks under my arm.

Yes, I will be the queen of the house, and I won't likely be paying for any weddings or fighting with someone over the length of their skirt or the skanky top they want to buy.

But I will also deal with a constantly dirty house, sports equipment that never gets put away and the dilemma of a lack of attention to personal hygiene.

So I am going to enjoy these last few days of feeling this awesome little baby swim around in my belly, explain to strangers that we are absolutely sure that this baby is a boy and embrace the next chapter of my life that will start sometime in the next four weeks: My Three Sons.

Until then, I will let my mother-in-law stick to praying for a girl, keep "thinking pink" and try to convince my husband that we really do need a fourth child, and it should be a girl.