It’s a(nother) boy!

How I learned to stop worrying and love being the
mother of four sons.

I don’t know why, but being pregnant and out with
three sons seemed to invite more people to make silly comments “Going for the
girl?” or to relate “Oh my best friend had three boys and then a girl.” and even
though we had intentionally steered clear of finding out the gender of our
unborn child, I got a secret thrill out of every stranger’s pronouncing on the
shape of my belly “Definitely a girl.” There were, it seems, countless signs
promising Rainer would be girl, and I did everything in my power to shut them
out, to avoid expectation, to avoid the possibility of disappointment. And I
was so happy to have him in my arms when he was born, that his being a boy
seemed pretty perfect. But I am facing the fact that he is our last and I never
will have a girl. And I have been thinking about why that
matters.

Each of my sons is so
different, and so amazing, that it quickly becomes apparent that gender is just
a small facet of who a person is. Still, when people learn I have four boys
they say more silly things, like how exhausting boys are, but how much easier
they will be as teenagers, and how much we’ll save on clothes. People will say
“At least you don’t have to buy any new clothes” as this consolation, which kind
of is funny, since clothes that have been worn by three older brothers aren’t so
nice, and I kind of like buying a new baby outfit here and there, if for no
other reason than so I’ll be able to tell their baby pictures apart (sort of
unfair since Rainer’s will be the baby pictures with hair!)

So I can act like gender doesn’t
matter at all, but it occurs to me there are things Jenny understands about me
that Raven doesn’t. That sometimes I get the distinct impression that the
difference between women’s social interactions and men’s is like the difference
between seeing color or not — there are subtleties that don’t register with
half the human race. And it seems strange that my sons will grow up to be men
and not understand those things I share with other women. But the thing I have
realized is that my children do not exist to understand me, I am not raising
them up to be my friends, however close I hope to be with them. That’s what my
friends are for. And, hey, my husband has four small people he can still beat
at video games.

Now a mother of three
sons, the oldest of them twenty years old, told me that recently it had occurred
to her she would have daughters-in-law and found that reassuring. I have been
acutely aware of that potential since my first son was born, perhaps because I
am the only daughter-in-law of a mother of three sons. I can’t imagine a better
mother-in-law and appreciate our understanding of each other. And just as
having children renewed my appreciation for all my parents have done, having
sons has made me try to be the best daughter-in-law I can be hoping for good
karm

a.
really, how much more boy-ish could you get (that’s a super soaker, gotten with
my severe reservations about toy weapons.) Just remember he’s very gentle with
his little brothers and will patiently hold Rainer even when he cries because
“it just makes him happy looking at Rainer”

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