As a child, I envisioned my future filled with daughters. Sons were never part of my daydreams. I wasn’t against having boys; I simply believed I’d be surrounded by little girls. This belief carried into adulthood and shaped my expectations during my first pregnancy.
My husband, Jason, and I were so convinced we were having a girl that we had a Christmas gift under the tree addressed to “To Lily, from Mommy and Daddy.” So, when the ultrasound revealed a boy instead, I was taken aback. “My daughter has a penis?” was my bewildered thought.
Colin was soon followed by three more boys: Caleb, Cody, and Carter. Four sons. Not a single daughter.
You might assume that my childhood dreams of tea parties and princess dresses were shattered by this reality. But let me be clear: I don’t need your sympathy. Many people seem to think that my life is somehow deficient without daughters, as if my heart aches for the absence of little girls.
This misguided pity peaked during my fourth pregnancy. When people asked about the baby’s gender and I replied with “another boy,” their disappointment was palpable. It was as if I had delivered tragic news. I received comforting pats on the shoulder and the all-too-familiar phrase, “Maybe you’ll get your girl next time. Are you going to try again?”
No, we will not “try again.” That implies we got it wrong the first four times. I refuse to let anyone, especially my four amazing boys, feel that they are not enough.
People often express their pity right in front of my sons, making them feel like they are somehow less desirable because they are boys. The looks I get can range from admiration to pity, and it’s disheartening. It’s as if they believe my ability to bond or identify with my children is diminished simply because they are the opposite sex.
But I see myself in them every day. Whether it’s in their humor, interests, or even their looks—especially Caleb, who is a spitting image of me. Sure, my boys can be messy and rambunctious, but that’s part of the joy of motherhood. When I vent about their antics—like missing the toilet—it’s simply a mom’s honest frustration, not a lament about wishing for a daughter.
So please, spare me the pity. Don’t assume that anyone with a row of boys (or girls!) is walking around with an empty space in their heart. I’m proud of my sons. I wouldn’t trade them for anything, not even for the chance to share nail polish or gossip about “girl stuff.” I don’t miss what I’ve never had.
While my home might resemble a wrestling match at times, and my bathroom might need a hazmat suit for cleaning, I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life. I love it, I love them, and there is absolutely nothing missing from our lives—except for maybe a little understanding from others.
For those considering the journey of motherhood, whether through natural means or options like at-home insemination kits, resources are available to guide you. Check out this excellent resource for more on pregnancy and related topics. And for those looking into home insemination, you can find helpful information here.
Summary
In this article, Lisa Anderson addresses the misconceptions surrounding being a mother of boys, emphasizing pride in her sons and rejecting societal pity. She shares personal anecdotes and encourages acceptance of diverse family structures while providing resources for those exploring motherhood.
Keyphrase: #BoyMom Experience
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]