I know I’m not supposed to say it out loud, but I can’t help wishing for a baby girl.
My home is dominated by boys. I’m married to a rugged man who builds boats, and I have two sons who think it’s the height of fun to burp the alphabet, engage in playful wrestling matches, and parade around the house without shirts to show off their ‘muscles.’ Family game night inevitably devolves into a wrestling match, and conversations often revolve around poop. Not to mention, my bathroom consistently carries the faint scent of pee, thanks to the less-than-stellar aim of the males in the house. There are plastic dinosaurs and ninjas lurking among the houseplants, and our Netflix queue is filled with action thrillers and spy flicks.
Despite our attempt to break stereotypes, my boy-centric household often reflects traditional roles in unexpected ways. I cherish my sons; they’ve brought an excitement into my life that was absent before they arrived. They’ve taught me to embrace bravery, to be loud, and to let go of minor frustrations—like broken lamps. Raising my boys is a fulfilling journey that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
As I approach the arrival of our third (and final!) child, I find myself resisting the urge to call my doctor for the gender reveal. But I must confess, and I hope I’m not judged, I genuinely hope this baby is a girl.
I yearn for that special mother-daughter bond I’ve heard so much about. I dream of picking out cute outfits and hosting tea parties (even if she might not share my enthusiasm—my boys certainly don’t). I envision us having empowering conversations about feminism and supporting one another.
When I hear my mom friends complain about their daughters borrowing their eyeliner or leggings, I can’t help but feel envious. I scroll through their Instagram feeds, watching them braid hair or tackle fun science projects, and I find myself imagining those same moments with a daughter of my own.
My heart aches to pass down the wisdom and stories from my mother, grandmother, and colorful aunts who have shaped my life. They taught me resilience, showed me the ropes of womanhood, and instilled strong feminist values in me.
Of course, I’m raising my sons to be feminists too. I discuss gender equality with them, emphasizing that girls can be just as capable and strong. We talk about consent, bodily autonomy, and respecting boundaries. Their father sets a fantastic example, and we are committed to raising boys who respect women.
Yet, despite this, I feel a unique connection between mothers and daughters that I’m missing in my home. While I share an unbreakable bond with my sons, a part of me longs for that distinct relationship with a daughter as well. I won’t apologize for these feelings and remain hopeful for what the future holds.
For more insights on family planning and home insemination, check out our other blog post at Intracervical Insemination. And if you’re seeking authoritative information, visit Make a Mom for resources on at-home insemination kits. Additionally, NHS offers excellent guidance on pregnancy and insemination.
In summary, while I embrace the joy of raising boys, I can’t shake the hope for a daughter and the unique bond we could share. I cherish my sons and the lessons they teach me, yet I still find myself wishing for a little girl to connect with in a different way.