After Four Daughters, My Husband Finally Got the Son He’d Been Begging For – But When He Held Our Newborn Boy for the First Time, His Words Made My Stomach Drop

“He’s ours, Aaron.”

“You know what I mean.”

I did. Four daughters had been enough for me long before this pregnancy, but I’d stopped saying it once I realized how badly Aaron wanted a son. It was easier to smile when he talked about trying again than to watch the disappointment cross his face.

“He’s been a lifesaver.”

I remembered the hospital room after Ava — our fourth daughter, pink and squalling in my arms — and Aaron kissing her forehead before whispering, not unkindly, “Next time.” I remembered the small room at the end of the hall he’d painted slate blue three years ago, the wooden train set already waiting on the shelf.

“Michael dropped off dinner at the house last night,” Aaron said. “Lasagna. Said to tell you congratulations in advance.”

“He’s been a lifesaver these last few months.”

“He really has.”

“You two look comfortable.”

Michael had done the school runs when my back gave out in the third trimester. He had picked up Chloe from ballet, sat with Ava at the pediatrician when I was on bed rest, brought us groceries on Sunday afternoons. Aaron’s best friend since they were fourteen — tall and easy, part of the furniture of our lives.

Once, Aaron had come home early and found Michael and me laughing over coffee at the kitchen table.