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The Son I Never Expected
As dawn breaks, my son tiptoes into my bed and curls up against me, his tiny frame fitting snugly against my stomach. I wrap my arm around him, inhaling the sweet scent of his hair, and allow myself to drift back into slumber. I find myself in a moment I never envisioned, with a child I never thought I wanted.
Initially, I was over the moon with my two daughters. I understood girls; I was one myself. Their personalities may have differed, but they were distinctly female, and I cherished our mother-daughter bond. However, the prospect of raising a boy filled me with dread. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but most little boys I encountered were bundles of uncontainable energy, constantly running around, breaking things, and lacking impulse control. I admired my friends who had boys; they seemed to possess an extraordinary strength that I didn’t think I had. While I had met some calm boys, they did nothing to change my mind about wanting a son. I was perfectly happy being a mother to girls.
Then, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant. When the time for the 20-week ultrasound came, I held my breath, asking the technician if she was certain. “As sure as I can be. You got yourself a boy!” she replied. I smiled, but inside, fear gripped me.
I wasn’t heartbroken, just anxious. I knew I would love my child, no matter the gender, but would I connect with him? The thought felt unfathomable. I began buying adorable boy clothes, contemplating names, and praying for the maternal instincts that mothers of boys seemed to have. My worries multiplied. What if I ended up with one of those wild, rambunctious boys? How would I handle that? What if I messed up his upbringing?
Then he arrived, looking like a tiny, adorable old man—bald and wrinkled in the most endearing way. And just like that, I was head over heels. Perhaps it was the contrast to my initial fears, but my love for him felt fundamentally different than my feelings for my daughters. It was a pure, almost puppy-like affection. I was utterly smitten with my son.
Over the years, I learned just how mistaken I had been about raising boys. While he is indeed one of those energetic, “all boy” types—running, breaking things, and being loud—he also loves to cuddle, molding himself against me like I’m made of butter. He even tells me he wants to marry me when he grows up. That wild energy, which I once thought would drive me crazy, now spills over into his boundless love for me. And I feel the same way about him.
Friends with both sons and daughters had shared that the bond between a mother and her son was something special. I never understood until now. While I continue to adore my mother-daughter relationships, I can’t fathom my life without this unique connection I have with my son. It’s intense, distinct, and truly invaluable.
Looking back, I realize how much I needed to have a boy. He embodies everything I expected a son to be, yet the experience of raising him is nothing like I had imagined. Six years ago, I could never have envisioned the joy I would find in being a boy mom. I love him deeply and genuinely enjoy his spirited personality. Now, I chuckle at my past self—grateful for the opportunity to raise this incredible little boy I never thought I wanted.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the unexpected journey of a mother who initially feared having a son but eventually found joy and fulfillment in her relationship with him. Through her experiences, she discovers the unique bond between mothers and sons, transforming her initial apprehensions into gratitude for the vibrant energy and love her son brings to her life.