I feel terrible even typing this...
Let's talk about Gender Disappointment.
So we found out we were having a boy at the 13th week of my pregnancy. I had done the blood work to test for abnormalities and this resulted in finding out the gender a lot earlier than normal (via ultrasound). It was nothing fancy, we didn't have a reveal; husband and I got an email that my results were in and we just scrolled until it said "Male".
Tim cried and looked at me and asked if I was happy. I said yes.
In my gut, since finding out I was pregnant, I knew it was boy. I knew.
And yet, we had a page of girl names we liked picked out. I was already envisioning tea parties and dance recitals and going shopping for matching outfits. We hadn't fallen in love with any boy names, I had no interest in trucks or bugs (which in the moment, for whatever reason, was the only thing I could fathom a boy ever liking).
I broke down crying later that day and admitted I was upset (and that I was upset for being upset). This was all I had wanted for...my entire life...what kind of monster cared what the gender was as long as it was a healthy baby? What kind of mother was I going to be?
There were a bunch of very unhelpful articles about being a boy mom and how boys were messy and loud but you just learned to love it and every article said that at the end of the day "boys loved their moms more than anything." (It wasn't until after having Oliver Fox that fellow mom, Eva, wrote this super insightful article on the mother son bond).
So I go to work, I bring them blue cupcakes, and my staff can also tell how upset I am. I try to fake it. They were there through my stress of trying to get pregnant, how dare I act ungrateful?
Then a patient walks in...and she's holding her three week old grandson. And everything changed.
I honestly believe the universe sent them to me that day.
We got to talking and not only did I spill the beans on my pregnancy but also on how last night I had found out it was a boy, I had no idea how to be a mom to boy, and looking at that three week old little man in her arms was exactly what I needed. She was nice enough to let me hold and feed him and like that my worries went away.
And then I had a boy.
And I sat in my husbands arms in the hospital, sobbing, for ever feeling anything other than joy. I was riddled with guilt for spending any time not completely enamored with the fact that I was having a boy. Because it didn't matter if he liked bugs or ballet, it didn't matter if he was a girl or a boy, he was mine.
I cried because he lived in my belly when I felt scared about being a "boy mom" and pressed his little body against mine in hopes my love in that moment could take it all back. I worried the little baby I made from scratch felt, even for a second, that I may have not loved him.
And I love him more than anything...
I truly don't know what I did to deserve such an amazing child. I am honored every day that I get to be a "boy mom." And I'm starting to truly hate that phrase; because he's just a person, learning to hold up his head and swat at toys. He's gonna like whatever he likes not because he's a boy, but because he's him. He's gonna yell however much he yells not because he's a boy, but because he's a child.
There's really no better way for me to explain it for moms (and dads) who might be feeling it too. It's just this love, the kind of love you can't put into words but you know if you're a parent, and that love is stronger than anything. It's what makes you check, and re check, if your kids are breathing in the middle of the night. Why you hate watching them get shots. It's the love that makes wanting them to stay little and wanting them to grow up two very confusing emotions happening all at once all the time. And that love does not care if you're having a boy or a girl or something in between.
My child. My boy. My baby. I am the luckiest mama in the world and I'm so glad you're a boy. That you're you.