The Unexpected Boy Mom

When I heard my lovely doctor say “It’s a Boy!” after I delivered my first child, I was in shock. Boy? What did she say? Did she just say boy? I looked at my husband in a panic. No, that can’t be right. I was 100% certain I was having a girl. We decided to be team green, but in my heart I just knew I was having a girl. So much to the point I convinced my dad to show up and wear a pink shirt for delivery day.

But that baby swaddled up in the hospital blanket wasn’t my daughter. It was my son. The tiny 6lb baby with the lightest blonde hair I had ever seen and the most gorgeous blue eyes locked eyes with mine, and my 25-year-old self was smitten. He was my beautiful son. He was mine, and I was his. I had a son.

I was hopeful I would have more children and knew I would have a daughter. I was only 25, I was young. I had time. Right?

Three years that were full of sadness later, including months of not getting pregnant and miscarriages, I had another son. And this time, a micropreemie. A 15oz baby who restored my faith. I was beyond grateful for this blessing.

However, I couldn’t help but hold on the fact that I would eventually have a daughter.

After my preemie spent 101 days in the NICU, it took me years to warm up to the thought of having another child. But I was certain that a baby girl was in my future if we decided to go for a third.

Four years later, we found out we were adding another baby to our family. We were all excited, and I was hopeful that this was it — my daughter was coming. The idea of smocked dresses, bows, and the relationship between a mother and their daughter had me filled with delight. However, that was all a dream. The reality came when I was in the ultrasound room having my 20 week scan and the tech told me it was a boy. Another boy. A THIRD boy. I was in disbelief. I was quiet. I was in shock.

Just a few short weeks later, history repeated itself and another micropreemie was born. My 1lb and 11oz baby boy made me a proud mom for a third time. I was officially a “boy mom” and any thoughts and dreams of ever having a girl were gone.

My life with three boys is much different than the one I had imagined growing up.

Barbies are replaced with action figures, and I’ve traded ballet classes for football games. Now, don’t misunderstand me; I love my boys and my boys love me. However, being the only girl in a house full of boys can be isolating at times.

As my 3 sons wrestle with each other on the ground and pile on top of each other, I sometimes wish I had an ally in this testosterone-filled house. Just to have someone to understand me in ways my sons and husband can’t. While I can’t lie – at times I am wistful for the daughters I didn’t have, but it doesn’t come often as when my first son was born. I’m pretty content with my life, and am happy to be a member of the “Boy Mom Club.”

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

fourteen − five =