Ashley Paige is a registered nurse turned stay-at-home mother to two beautiful boys with a third on the way. She is the voice behind the blog, I Love You More Than Carrots, where she word-vomits about her many mis-adventures in mothering. She prefers her wine from a coffee mug, has found earthworms in her fridge, caught vomit in her hands and can honestly say, "nothing surprises her anymore." You can also find her on Twitter.

We had barely stepped foot outside of the ultrasound room after learning our third baby (and very likely our last) would be another boy, and we heard it: The question that I've not only become accustomed to hearing but also one that I knew was coming.

"So, you're just going to have to try for four to get your girl, huh?"

I looked up in the direction of the offending question, shrugged my shoulders, and half-smiled. Yeouch. "I almost can't believe it myself. Three boys! How crazy!" I replied quietly back.

Looking back, that's not even the part that stung the most. That part quickly followed was when the very pregnant woman with two boys playing happily at her feet said, "You poor thing."

My heart sank when only seconds earlier, I was on cloud nine. Another boy! Another beautiful, bouncing bundle of blue to complete our family. "How lucky am I," I thought to myself, "to be given this gift of raising three gentlemen."

My heart did not sink because I was sad for me. It sank more for that woman, who sat there with two beautiful boys playing at her feet, who believed that I could not find happiness with a house full of boys. How sad and sorry for her to think that I could not feel a sense of peace and completion at the prospect of raising three sons. I couldn't help but feel that she must've felt as if those two beautiful boys playing at her feet "just weren't enough."

Was I overwhelmed with the news of adding a third son to our family? Of course I was. But my overwhelming feelings stemmed more from adding another child to our family, rounding out the grand total of three children under four, rather than feeling overwhelmed by his tiny boy parts.

It was my second thought that gave me a good chuckle. I thought to myself, "Hmm, I wonder if three boys comes with a FastTrack pass to the nearest Emergency Room or maybe a punch card or something with a free sandwich at the end." But I promise you, my first thought was how incredibly awesome and fun it will be to raise three boys.

It was shortly after we announced the gender of our second son, Maclane, maybe two years earlier, that I began fielding the oft disappointment-tinged questions of both family and absolute strangers. The inquiries from strangers were the best, often thrown across a grocery store aisle or while seated in the waiting room of the pediatrician's office.

"Will you have one more? Are you hoping for a girl? You're going to need some pink in your life after those two," were just some of the many offending comments flung my way.

My most favorite, however, was when one woman looked over at my cart full of groceries and two grinning little boys and said, "Keep trying!"

I began to wonder things I had never wondered before. "What was wrong with having two boys?" More important, what is it that makes people believe that to have a house full of all boys (or girls for that matter) is in any way a disappointment?

I could never figure out the answer and to this day, I still can't.

Since we're being honest here, there's something else I should tell you. It's true that when I first found out we'd be having a third son that I had a moment. A very brief moment of, "Wow, I'll never have the chance to raise a daughter."

And in that moment, albeit very brief, there was a pang of sadness.

Did I ever yearn for a baby girl? Absolutely not. I yearned for a healthy baby, like most mothers do, and each time was blessed with exactly that, one healthy baby after another, who just happened to have boy parts.

But would it have been kind of neat to raise a little girl as our last baby? To have a chance at Brownie meetings, prom dress shopping, and mother-daughter bake sales? Yes, it probably would have been kind of neat. I look at the relationship that I have with my own mother and it is because of that relationship that I was, in that moment, sad over something I would never have.

I did, however, quickly realize how I am a horrible French-braider (as in I have no idea how to do it) and squeamish as all get out when it comes to talking about things like periods and tampons. At 30 years old, I still can't even say the word "vagina" without giggling inappropriately, so it's probably better that I'm a mom to all boys in the end.

But I still had that moment.

Having had that moment doesn't make me less of a mother, though. It doesn't mean that I will feel unfulfilled raising my three boys to grow up to be passionate, kind, and compassionate gentlemen. And, it certainly doesn't mean that I will be trying for a fourth child, "Just so that I can have that girl."

Having that moment makes me feel even more grateful for the three wonderful blessings that have already been given to me. Blessings in the form of three little boys. I could not feel more at peace with that.

I want you to know that having a house full of boys, despite the chaos, the mess, the noise, is nothing more than a dream come true. There is something so special and so unique about a way a boy loves his mama that can't be put into words. And to have a house full of that kind of love?

Well, I wouldn't trade it for all the pink in the world.