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"Sometimes sacred and scared get mixed up." S. Kim Henson

“Sometimes sacred and scared get mixed up.”
S. Kim Henson

“It’s a girl.”

The nurse announced the baby’s sex while Mom, Dad, both sets of grandparents (this is where I come in), and the baby’s uncle-to-be looked at the ultrasound on a big screen TV. I held my daughter Kelly’s hand during that sacred moment of seeing my granddaughter for the first time.

“Were you shaking?” she asked when it was over. “I couldn’t tell if you were excited or upset.”

I wasn’t sure either. The pain and excitement (the scaredness and the sacredness) came in waves well into the evening.

I finally broke down in the grocery store parking lot, where I wished I’d been twirling with happiness, and bawled. The report said healthy baby girl in July and I was sobbing like her birth came with the wrath of God.

“I feel like God is punishing us. He knew we wanted a boy. Would that have been so hard for him?” I said while sobbing.

Twenty minutes and a half a box of Kleenex later, I glanced in the car mirror to check my mascara. I hardly recognized myself all wet and splotchy.

What was wrong with me? I thought.

“Bringing another little girl into our family seems cruel. God should know better. The timing is all wrong,” I said.

My husband, John, did his best to reassure me Claire (the name of our granddaughter-to-be) would be okay in our family, but he’s also well aware of my family’s generational patterns that dishonor girls. He has watched me repeat some, but thankfully not the most damaging, of these patterns with Kelly. He’s witnessed the two of us struggle against my family’s demons, and sometimes against each other. He’s hurt with us when topics like sexual abuse tore apart relationships with my parents, Kelly’s grandparents.

He understood, as does Kelly, why I felt shaken by the news of a granddaughter.

When Kelly and her husband announced her pregnancy, I announced to God, “We aren’t ready for a girl. Girls aren’t safe here.”

Even though Kelly and I have worked for years to right the wrongs and to share lunch dates, shopping and late-night girl talks, I still thought …

We aren’t ready for a girl. Girls aren’t safe here.

Even though Kelly and I want a daughter and granddaughter to dance around the living room, dance on stage in ballet recitals, and dance in her daddy’s arms at her wedding, I still thought …

We aren’t ready for a girl. Girls aren’t safe here.

Even though Kelly deserves a daughter to tell her (like she told me) that she is the world’s best mom, even when she doesn’t feel like it, I still thought …

We aren’t ready for a girl. Girls aren’t safe here.

Or are we ready?

“I can see the three of us doing craft projects, going to the beach together, and baking cookies,” said Kelly. “I can’t wait.”

I guess if anyone should know if we’re ready, it would be Kelly.

And God, of course.

Have you ever had a scared reaction to a sacred moment? If so, what happened afterwards?



WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – I’m more convinced everyday (and once again) that God knows exactly what he’s doing. Welcome to our family, Claire. We’re going to make sure you’re safe here.


On the side: Sort of like all the begetting in the Bible … Kelly wasn’t safe in our home because I wasn’t safe in Mom’s home because Mom wasn’t safe in her home because her mom wasn’t safe in her home. Our family hopes this post helps others who are stuck in generational patterns to find hope and help.

Our son is also aware and helping. Right after buying Claire a wardrobe, he said, “It’s time this all changes. It is changing.”

I have something for you!


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