I remember how I felt on the day my ultrasound confirmed that I would be having a boy, back in March 2008. I also remember how I felt in October of 2009 when I learned we would be adding another son to our family.
To say I mourned for a dream both days would be correct. I did, in fact, cry at the news with my first son. Big, ridiculous tears and heaving sobs on the dining room floor. I cried in the parking lot before walking into my office wearing a happy “It’s A Boy!” t-shirt. And I cried in the mall when I went for some retail therapy in the newborn boys’ section at JC Penney.
I remember how my husband didn’t understand my tears. “It’s not that I don’t want a boy…I just wanted a girl!” I told him.
At this point, I feel I should give the standard disclaimer that goes along with this discussion any time it is had. Of course I just wanted a healthy baby. Of course I am blessed beyond measure to have a child. But to deny that I felt sadness would be dishonest.
I have a hard time explaining why it is that I want a daughter so badly. It’s not that I want to dress a daughter in pink from head to toe (though that would be fun) or that I want someone to go with me on shopping trips (though the prospect of teenage boys’ sighs in the shoe department gives me a headache). I don’t believe that a daughter would want to be my best friend or stay up late telling me secrets. But I do know that I have a great relationship with my mom and I want to experience what it’s like to have a daughter, to have a different kind of relationship than I will have with my sons.
It has been nearly three years since that first scan revealed our child’s gender, and I now find myself coming to terms with and accepting the idea that I may never have a daughter. We might not have more children and even if we do, we may have more boys.
As much of a turnaround as this is for me, it doesn’t mean I won’t have moments when I long for a daughter. I will still get wistful at times when I see a mother and daughter together. Even though my friends with daughters make jokes about how girls are “so much drama,” I still wonder what it would be like. Would she be a girly girl or more of a tomboy? Would she be one of the popular girls or really awkward like I was? Would she be a daddy’s girl and run to his arms after a rough day at school? These are the things I may never know — but I’m starting to be okay with maybe never knowing.
I suppose what I’ve come to appreciate is that this is our family. We may add to our number at some point, but I wouldn’t change who is in that photo. I wouldn’t trade my sons for 10,000 daughters. This is who God has entrusted into my care and I thank Him for my boys. I thank Him for the grass-stained jeans, the daredevil’s bruises, and the loud bodily function noises. I thank Him for little boys who love their mama dearly and unconditionally. Thank you God for my boys.