My daughter’s name was going to be Carly Jane.
Christmas came — I was three months pregnant at the time — and my husband sweetly labeled all my gifts To Mommy, From Carly. Yes, I was that sure. Mother’s intuition, right? I felt it in my bones that my growing baby was a girl, and I couldn’t wait for her to experience the mother-daughter bond that I’m lucky enough to have with my own mom.
At my 20-week ultrasound, when the tech asked if we’d like to know the baby’s sex, I was eager for confirmation of what I already knew. She glided the wand to a specific spot on my belly, smiled, and said, “There’s the penis!”
“My daughter has a penis?!” I blurted out, completely surprised, and then embarrassed the instant the words escaped me. I clapped my hands to my mouth, then lowered them and tried again. “It’s … a boy?”
The ultrasound tech showed me exactly what part was what, and sure enough, “Carly” was not in fact a Carly at all. I wasn’t disappointed, just utterly shocked; I loved my baby more than anything already, no matter what. But as the realization sunk in, so did the fear. I had been so sure of having a girl. What on earth was I going to do with a son?!
A daughter would have been easy, I thought, given that I had a literal lifetime of experience being a girl myself. I would know exactly how to raise one. But a son was different — I’ve never been a boy. I’ve never even been boy-ish. I don’t know what it feels like, in any capacity. I can’t relate to the things they go through on the same level I could with a daughter. The gender norms so deeply ingrained in our society, in myself, made me fear a gap so wide I couldn’t possibly bridge it. For the rest of my pregnancy, I worried endlessly that I wouldn’t be able to connect with my son the way I wanted to. Would it lead to a lifetime of misunderstandings? Would we ever be truly close?
The moment I first held my baby boy in my arms, though, all that fear melted away. And over that baby’s now-18 years — during which I added three more sons to my life — I realized some valuable things: boys need their moms just as much as girls do. Boys love their moms just as much as girls do. You are no less important to a son than you would be to a daughter. Gender doesn’t matter when it comes to a parent’s ability to love and understand their child. And there’s just something so special about being a boy’s mama.
I understand why people without sons are apprehensive about it sometimes — just like I was. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that stories about my boys’ shenanigans (and there have been many!) serve as great birth control, and I’m not sure if I should feel offended or proud. Either way, raising sons truly is an adventure, not for the faint of heart … or the weak of stomach. And having multiple boys is like having a bunch of big, hungry, loud, endlessly energetic puppies tumbling around all the time.
More than anything else, though? It’s amazing. Moms who are raising sons are a unique breed. We’re able to understand the male perspective, and then offer up opinions from the other side. We’re in the rare position of teaching our sons not only their own self-worth, but the worth of women. We know that boys’ hearts are huge and tender and broken just as easily as anyone else’s, even if they deal with it differently — and when it happens, we are their safe place. No matter how big they get (and trust me, they’ll start to tower over you sooner than you can imagine), there’s always room for them in our arms.
Being the mom of a son means being the recipient of the deepest, fiercest love. Nobody makes a disparaging comment about a boy’s mama. We have an exalted status in their eyes, and to belittle us is to cross a line you just don’t cross. Even when your son is angry with you, the intensity of his love is always there — just as even when it’s overcast, the sun is still shining behind the clouds.
So maybe you can’t relate to a son in exactly the same way that you’d relate to a daughter. But you can love him just as fully. You can be the center of his universe, at least for a precious while. You can marvel at the fascinating changes as he grows, and see the potential unfolding before your eyes. You can teach him what it is to be a man, and help him understand what it’s like to be a woman. You can be supportive of him, cheer him on, and always be in his corner. And above all, you can be confident that his loyalty and love for you is strong and abiding.
I never did get the daughter I was so sure I’d have. But I got something I never expected: my sons, and all the beautiful, messy, chaotic, touching moments we are beyond privileged to have. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Before you go, check out these celebrity mothers who love being boy moms.
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