Considering I have only one child and he’s the most handsome little boy you will ever meet, I can only speak from my experiences raising a boy. I’d like to be honest with you from the get go. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted a daughter. I felt that I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy. For starters I was a girl, so that gave me a one up already on raising one. And secondly, I really wanted the mother – daughter bond that I have with my mother.
Needless to say, that when I found out I was having a boy, I wasn’t so happy. I know…terrible thing to say. But it’s the truth, and I see no reason to lie. My family members were thrilled with whatever the sex because the baby was healthy. And my son’s father was ecstatic because the last thing he wanted to do was raise a little girl. He’s a man’s man. He enjoys getting dirty, skinned knees and elbows, changing his own oil, and riding dirt bikes into the wee hours. For him, a son would be perfect.
But for me…it was the other way around. I wanted the little princess to dress up, to have tea parties with, to build a bear with, and shop for the latest shoes. I wanted to make a miniture me. There I said it.
She would have long, straight, brown hair with huge chestnut brown eyes. Eyelashes that stretched for miles, and a personality that would make even Madonna get on her knees and pray. She was going to be a leader no doubt. The next J.K. Rowling when it came down to creating and writing a magical world. Even Cinderella would envy her. That was the little girl I planned on having.
Instead, however, I pushed out a seven pound boy. He cried for twenty minutes straight. The nurses were laughing at his cute set of lungs. When I looked into my son’s eyes, it was then I realized that I had a boy for a reason. What that exact reason is, boils down to science, I know. But metaphysically speaking, I believe I had a son to ground me.
Someone had to knock the perfect little girl image from my foresight. I had to come down to reality. No one has the perfect child. And it’s impossible to mold them into one parents…in case you were wondering. I took one look at this angelic child and it was clear that I had worried over raising a son for nothing. It didn’t matter the sex of my child. I was a mother to the most important person ever. No one in this world mattered to me more than my child. Boy or girl…I was a mother and it felt wonderful.
Maybe my little girl will come one day, who knows. And I know that I have a mountain in front of me trying to raise a man. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. When my son calls me mommy and runs into my arms, that’s a feeling that can’t be described. I’ve tried to put it into words, and I can’t.
And hey…I take my son shopping with me. He just prefers to take along a few Matchbox cars rather than a Barbie. No biggie.
Please share your mothering stories, whether you’re raising a boy, girl, or both. I’d love to hear your side.