The ultrasound technician made small talk as baby’s image appeared on the screen. My husband squeezed my hand, knowing that the next words the technician spoke meant everything to both of us, but especially to me. “Looks like you’re adding a third boy to the family!” Part of me couldn’t believe it; part of me could. All of me began to feel a ripple of grief that erupted into a flood of tears as I stood alone in the restroom minutes later. Standing there, I was just as devastated by the news as I was by my reaction. I was already the mother of two healthy little boys. In a few months, I would be bringing another healthy little boy into the world, and yet I wasn’t satisfied. I have friends who’ve lost babies in pregnancy or childbirth. I have friends who’ve struggled for years with infertility. The gender disappointment I felt brought with it the weight of guilt I felt for my selfish desire to want more than I had, despite already having so much.
Dreams of a Daughter
My husband and I didn’t find out the sex of our first two babies until we met them at birth. If people inquired whether or not I had a preference, I would assure them that my only preference was to have a healthy baby. I convinced myself of this, but it wasn’t entirely true. I’d always envisioned myself with two children, and the truth is that I’d always wanted the experience of raising both a boy and a girl. The decision to have two children had been easy; the decision to add a third to the family had been less certain. As my second-born grew out of toddler-hood, however, our family didn’t feel complete to me. I don’t know if I can owe this feeling entirely to the desire to have a daughter, but that was undeniably a large factor.
There’s an underlying camaraderie in womanhood. I craved the mother-daughter experience of mentoring a young woman through the many firsts that life brings. I know what it is to be a woman. The female experience is something I understand. I wanted to put that experience to use to guide my own little girl through childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Yes, I imagined one day wedding dress shopping with my hypothetical daughter or supporting her through her own journey to motherhood. Those milestones would not be guaranteed, and they certainly weren’t the motivating factors in wanting a daughter. What I wanted the most was the honor of adding a strong female to the world and learning through experience what it takes to do so.
A Taboo Topic
Gender disappointment is one of those parenting topics that doesn’t get discussed a great deal. Initially, I had trouble sharing my feelings with others because of the guilt and selfishness I felt. When I did open up, I found more support and understanding than I’d expected. Surprisingly, I found that the greatest empathy came from my friends who’d faced loss and infertility. “I get it,” one of them assured me. “You had a dream of what your family would look like. Whatever the reason, your family won’t fit that dream. It’s hard.”
Long before we were even engaged, my husband and I had stumbled upon the perfect name for our future daughter. It was a name that remained at the top of our list during both of my previous pregnancies. Perhaps because of this, I felt a strong loss in the days following the ultrasound. Even though she’d never existed, my hypothetical daughter felt real. She was part of a dream I’d had for years, and she was gone.
The first days after the ultrasound were hard. The following weeks became easier. For the first time in three pregnancies, I knew something about the identity of the little one growing inside me. I’d loved the unknown in my first two pregnancies, but this time around, I was glad to know. My husband and I decided on a name, and this brought me even closer to the real little boy I’d soon meet.
Moving on from Disappointment
Three years later, have I overcome gender disappointment? Yes. I couldn’t imagine life without my littlest. If I’d had the daughter I’d envisioned, then I wouldn’t have him. I wouldn’t have the little boy who loves cuddling, trains, and the Bee Gees. He’s the sweetest little spirit, a two year old who knits his eyebrows together and asks, “Are you okay?” and who chirps, “I love you!” without prompting.
Have I overcome not having a daughter? Well, no, not entirely. There are still those what-if moments that catch me off guard. I’m not disappointed to have three boys. Not at all. They each add something amazing to my life. My disappointment lies in the loss I feel for a daughter I’ll never have the privilege to raise. When I stand up against gender stereotypes, I can only speak from the experience of raising boys. One day, I may get to experience a different kind of mother-daughter relationship in the form of a daughter-in-law, a granddaughter, a niece, or another little girl who needs me. And if I don’t, that’s OK. My reality is my three boys. What a privilege it is to raise them into the kind of men that the world needs.
