I never imagined I’d be a mum to boys if I’m honest.
I come from a very female dominant family with a scattering of male off spring here and there, so I naturally thought, in my own un scientific way, that I too would only have girls. I remember the disbelief to this day, on being handed my baby after a long and gruelling labour and being told it was a boy.
We don’t have boys in our family, are you sure?
I’d put weight on all over, craved sweet things and family statistics swung heavily in favour of the pink gene. I was sure He was going to be a She. I wasn’t disappointed, in fact I was secretly pleased. We needed more boys to level things out, I was aiding the blue corner. Go me!
My next baby will be a girl I innocently presumed, none of the ladies in my family have 2 sons.
Turns out I was wrong again, as I welcomed my second beautiful boy to the world. Very wrong. Not only had I broken the mould, I’d screwed up that tradition and thrown it out the window. I started a trend, my relatives were all having boys too. Get me, the boy mamma trend setter.
“So will you try for a girl?” I was asked on many occasions. I was never quick enough with a witty comeback other than “no, I’m happy with what I’ve got.”
How do you try for girl anyway?! Should I bathe in glitter and paint my house pink?
Fast forward 10 years and Daz and I decided there was room in our happy little family for another child. Not a girl, a child. Yet this time the questions from well-meaning people came in thick and fast. ” I bet you’re hoping this one’s a girl” to “it would be lovely if you had a girl this time.”
As the questions and comments got more personal I became more stubborn. I loved being a mum of boys, they were growing up to be kind, gentle, handsome young men. Each day they made me prouder and happier than words can express. I felt safe in a house where Lego lurked in every corner, I enjoyed watching Star Wars on a Sunday afternoon, I could hold my own in a Batman v Spiderman debate. There was nothing I disliked about being a mum to boys.
Ok, so the toilet seat stays up. I regularly trip over skateboards and our home rivals a Lynx deodorant testing zone most mornings. Annoying at most, but never upsetting.
So when Baby R burst into our lives after a quick and painful 2 hours. I felt instant love for this puffy, dark-haired little boy who gazed into my eyes.
Not sadness for the girl I’ll never have.