In my home, the atmosphere is infused with a distinct sense of boyish energy. My husband is a craftsman who builds boats, and our two sons revel in the joy of their boisterous antics, from burping the alphabet to engaging in good-natured wrestling matches during family game nights. The boys think nothing of wandering around without shirts, eager to flaunt their “muscles.”
Poop jokes are a staple in our conversations, and let’s not even get started on the perpetual aroma of urine in the bathroom—aiming seems to be a challenge for the males in my household. There are action figures and plastic dinosaurs hidden in every plant, and our Netflix queue is heavily weighted with action flicks and spy thrillers. While we don’t actively enforce stereotypes, our boy-centric home often aligns with them in amusing ways.
Despite the chaos, I adore my boys. They’ve infused my life with a vibrancy I didn’t know I was missing. Through them, I’ve learned to embrace bravery and noise, letting go of minor inconveniences like shattered lamps. Navigating this journey of motherhood with them is an exhilarating adventure.
As I approach the arrival of our third (and final) child, I’ve refrained from calling my OB-GYN to discover the baby’s gender. Yet I’m compelled to admit—albeit cautiously—that I’m truly hoping for a girl.
The thought of nurturing a mother-daughter bond fills me with joy. I dream of dressing her in cute outfits and perhaps hosting tea parties (though my boys are decidedly uninterested in that). I envision empowering discussions about feminism, a topic I feel passionate about.
Listening to my mom friends share stories about their daughters pilfering makeup or cozy leggings makes me a tad envious. I scroll through Instagram, admiring photos of hair-braiding sessions and DIY science projects, and I can’t help but fantasize about creating similar memories with a daughter of my own.
I long for the opportunity to pass down the wisdom and stories from my mother, grandmother, and vibrant aunts whose influences shaped my life. They taught me resilience and the intricacies of womanhood, instilling strong feminist values in me.
That said, I am equally committed to raising my sons with a deep understanding of gender equality. I make it a point to have open discussions with them about female empowerment, emphasizing that girls can excel in any field. We talk about consent, respecting boundaries, and the importance of treating everyone with dignity. Their father sets a remarkable example for them, and we are dedicated to raising compassionate individuals.
Still, there’s an indescribable connection that exists between mothers and daughters—a bond that I yearn for. Although my relationship with my boys is profoundly fulfilling, part of me longs to experience that special connection with a daughter as well. I embrace this hope for the future without any reservations.
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In summary, as I count down the days to my baby’s arrival, I find myself wishing for a girl to share in the unique experiences I dream of. My life with my boys is vibrant and full, yet the thought of a daughter adds another layer of excitement to my journey into motherhood.