Embracing the Unexpected

How I navigated gender disappointment

I had gender disappointment when I found out about both my sons. Both times, 4 years apart - I felt a distinct shatter in my heart.

There, I said it. Again.

I’ve said it before, but the admission is always met with disbelief and accusations of me being a complete ingrate - “at least you have a child” “imagine if they ever found out.” The internet is mean, so those are the more tempered responses.

It’s also met with my dms flooded with women who felt the same exact way upon finding out they were birthing a son, but don’t want to admit it publicly in comments, a “please don’t share this” or “I feel like an awful mother saying this.”

And that is exactly why we SHOULD talk about it.

One day, my sons may come to know about this momentary disappointment that I felt, and I want to be able to explain it to them because what I, and so many women feel, is valid and real.

I think I used to feel really ashamed about admitting to it when I believed it was nothing more than a superficial desire. I figured, since I had grown up with sisters, had a closer bond with my mom than my dad, was a pink loving ballerina girly girl to the T, I imagined that sensibly translating to raising girls. That was the part of it I could identify and make sense of.

It wasn’t until well after I had both my boys that I realized that my feelings were rooted in something much deeper: my own bias about boys and men; more specifically, what boys and men are capable of being.

In my last post, I talked about the extent to which I was raised with patriarchy in my home growing up. It is no surprise that my outlook on boys and what it meant to be a man was a boxed in, rigidly defined, person lacking emotional IQ or the ability to connect. Funny thing is, my husband doesn’t fit this description; I am not attracted to traditional masculinity, nor he to person who embraces traditional feminine roles.

With my first gender reveal, we had icing filled cupcakes made that we would bite into to reveal a bright blue or pink over an intimate dinner - just the two of us. For a few hours, the baker and obgyn were the only ones who knew the coveted information.

I closed my eyes tightly and wished on my lucky stars I’d open them to see a light pink hue peeking out of my first bite of the cake. Stark blue. My heart sank, Hiren quickly apologized saying he knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but I could see there was excitement in his face. I felt a kind of envy. I wanted to be overjoyed, too.

I called my sister moments later and said, “okay, I’m only going to say this once, but I’m really sad.”

And that was it, I didn’t allow myself to say it after that - out of pure guilt. I bottled it up inside. When Carter was born, I can say with confidence it was the best day, and he was welcomed in with so much love. Yet, whether it was due to not being able to breastfeed him (couldn’t get him to latch), a speedy 6 week maternity leave with my body unrecognizable and in shambles, or the fact that he…was a boy…I was unable to establish a bond with him. I knew I loved him, and cared for him (do you see how I have to keep repeating that to justify my motherhood?)

In the back of my head, I kept wondering if I would have felt differently had I birthed a girl.

I had a lot to work through once I faced these feelings. I was beginning to accept that maybe I just wouldn’t share a bond with him - it’s okay, I have nieces, it’s okay, I have women in my life, girlfriends, sisters. It’s okay.

A few years went by. I loved our little family. Perhaps of my own doing, I sometimes felt left out when I observed Hiren bond seamlessly with him. But, too concerned about optics, I never let anyone know about that inner struggle. Our perfect family.

We decided to try for our second, and this time, I was SURE we’d have a girl. It would be so cute to have an older brother, younger sister dynamic — best of both worlds!

We agreed to having friends throw us a gender reveal party where we’d find out in front of a group, thats how sure of myself I was having a girl. This time, we’d crack a dozen hard boiled dyed eggs on our heads, the one with a dripping yolk in it revealed the gender.

Finding out about another boy, now with an audience - was so awkward. My visible distress with the spotlight magnifying my sadness.

Yet, I covered it up and pretended my disappointment wasn’t as deep as it was.

I have to tell you, I didn’t make peace with it until I started exploring the “No Dusty Sons” series. With each video I posted, I got to know myself better as a mom raising boys, reflecting on all the ways in which I took issue with traditional gender norms and was working to dispel limiting beliefs about gender that do not benefit our kids.

Thats when I realized how deep and common these feelings were; it wasn’t about ballet and pink, and painting nails together…(Insert the most surprising relationship I share with Dev)

Of course it wasn’t.

It was about:

-A personal experience with gender norms, sexism, and restrictive roles of both men and women, boys and girls.

-A desire for shared experiences - I dreamed of having a daughter to share female friendship with. A restriction I put on gender.

(I have so many moments of connection and relationship building with both my sons; WE seek them out. Neither gender operates under ultimates - boys aren’t closed off to connection or specific hobbies just because they are…boys.)

-My internalized bias and concern for raising boys in a changing world - In a society that still rewards toxic masculinity, it feels challenging to raise boys who are kind, emotionally aware, and respectful.

And it’s through my own content I post, that I realized it was in my own power to confront these thoughts, and actually do something about it. Seek connection, dig deeper, meet each other halfway, and empower boys to be who they authentically want to be.

If you have or had feelings of GD, I hope this post helps you.

Till next time,

Payal

l