Being the mother of boys

I always thought I'd have girls. I was the oldest of 2 girls. My mother was the mother of girls, so when I was going to become a mom myself, it seemed so natural to be the mother of girls. The word "baby" to me was synonymous in my mind with the word "girl". The thought of a baby also brought about images of pink and dolls and bunnies and blonde little angels.

God had other plans.

When I first found out I was carrying a boy I was hysterically depressed for about 48 hours and then I just snapped out of it. I went through disappointment that it wasn't a girl at the same time suffering horrible guilt that I felt that way. I told my self how selfish I was "At least you can conceive and have a kid when so many cannot." I told God terrible things - things I am ashamed to admit that they even crossed my mind. I went through all 5 of Kubler-Ross' stages of loss. I thought, "OK so it's a boy. Next time I'll have a girl."

Once again - God in charge, not me.

This time I went through the same emotions, but with more anger (which I didn't think possible). There wasn't going to be a next time. I only wanted 2 kids. Try for a girl next? Oh, no. Not me. With my luck it'd be another boy. I can hardly handle the first boy as he goes through a terrible two phase. Where was my little girl? God, don't you know I always wanted a girl?

I grew up playing Barbie, doing crafts, taking ballet. Sports? Forget it. Camping and dirt? No way. What the heck do I know about raising little boys?

In retrospect, I was destined to have boys. After all I had always been one of the boys. I had a bunch of guy friends in college that I felt more comfortable with hanging out, going out with and most importantly, being myself with than I ever had with groups of girls. Sometimes I make a new friend and later find myself chatting more easily with the husband. Not flirting, just talking. From my original college gang, we are still friends and have been in each others' weddings, are godparents to each others' children and still travel to see each other. I married one of that gang and am eternally grateful for that.

The other day Matt had taken my toothbrush and cleaned the floor with it. Later I was squatting down fastening Drew into his car seat and was tackled from behind, causing me to fall forward and almost squash the baby. Then I was washing my hands and Matt came up and hugged my legs and kissed me right on my butt. A delightful squeal from the terrible two. I laughed until I cried. God, I asked, are you sure about this? And I realized that after all this time wishing for girls, it seemed so right to be the mother of boys.