I can’t tell you how many times over the years I’ve had people ask me if we were still going to “try” for a girl. Well, folks – we were never “trying” for a girl in the first place. I just wanted to have a few babies.
Actually, that’s not quite true. If you were to rewind to my early and mid twenties you would find me quite content working on my career and enjoying life. Sure, I wanted to get married, but I didn’t have a burning desire to be a mother.
It was only after a couple of years of marriage that I started to feel the slightest tug towards motherhood. And that was probably only because all my friends were doing it. And, yes, I know that doesn’t make it right.
But nevertheless, I found myself in the position of being a mom and I liked it. Not only was I a mom, but I was the mom of a son. Then we decided to have number two. And, yes, the thoughts and hopes of it being a girl were clearly on my mind. I can admit that, but when we found out it was another boy, I was just as happy. After all, can you say hand-me-downs?
So we were done. Hubby was content with two. Initially I tried to convince him that we should “try” for a third, because it “might” be a girl. No, he was content with two. And I became content with two.
Two made us a family of four. That meant booth seating. A parent for each child. Traveling in pairs. Two was good.
Then there was the time I should have been paying more attention to the Gregorian calendar than the school calendar. And then there were three. I remember crying when I first found out I was pregnant with number three. I was happy with two. Two was good.
But three was better.
There was that moment in the doctor’s office when we were having our sonogram, to find out if it was a girl or a boy, that the words, “It’s a boy” were hanging in the air. My husband squeezed my hand and said, “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? For making me the mother of three, wonderful boys? Sorry was hardly the proper response. I later found out that my Hubby had had his own dreams of ribbons and bows and cheerleading outfits. But three was better and three boys was the best.
Today those three boys are 16, almost 13 and 9, and I still get comments about how we should “go for a girl.” That ain’t happening people. One, because we feel strongly that our family is complete and two, I’m too old for that baby business. And three, well just suffice it to say that our family is complete.
I’ve also had people tell me they are sorry for me that I have all boys. Sorry? For me? Please! I love having all boys! And the best is when people say that there is a “special place” in heaven for moms with all boys. Well, finally something good out of all this. It’s nice to know that I’ll be living it up in the penthouse suite while the rest of y’all will be living in heaven’s version of subsidised housing.
Don’t feel sorry for me, people. I am happy and content to be the mother of all boys. They are wonderful young men and thanks to their father’s leadership and guidance, they treat me like a queen. Besides that, I’ve heard that raising boys is quite a bit cheaper than raising girls. I also don’t have to deal with the whining and drama that I hear most daughters bring to the equation.
So, no, you won’t find me “trying” for a girl. Boys are fine by me. Don’t pity me and don’t feel sorry for me. It’s true; I’ll never get to be the “mother of the bride”, but look at it this way, I’lI only have to pay for the rehearsal dinners.
And I can use the money I save to help decorate that heavenly, penthouse suite.