It's International Daughter's Day, and I don't have any. (Biological ones, that is.) But it wasn't for lack of wanting or trying. Oh no. When I was five years old, I announced to my mother with complete certainty and Kanye West-style confidence that I would have five daughters and five cats when I grew up. I mean, I had three older sisters and no brothers, so it didn't seem unreasonable, right? Then I married a man who is allergic to cats and apparently has no X chromosomes.
Cue the male child brigade.
The first one was actually a relief because I knew my husband wanted at least one son, and I honestly doubted I would ever produce one. So, check! Of course, he'll have all sisters, though. No doubt.
Enter number two. Sonograms weren't a thing back then, so we didn't officially know the sex of the baby ahead of time. But I knew. Of course, it was a girl - until it wasn't. Wait, what? OK, so yes - it's nice that the oldest will have a brother. And two boys and two girls - won't that be sweet? (After the reality of having real babies hit, I realized they were a lot harder to care for than my dolls, and the number in my head was now down to four.)
Third time's a charm? Well, yes, he IS charming - but not a girl. This time we had a sonogram and knew it was a boy. By now, I had resigned myself to the fact that I may have been a little ambitious in my childhood goals. But, well - who knows? Maybe, just maybe...
"I don't know," said the tech after an unusually long time in the sonogram room. "This baby isn't cooperating, and I don't think we're going to find the sex today." "Oh," I replied, "That's so interesting - because I'm not leaving this table until we do," I said, blinking rapidly and holding that "don't test this pregnant woman" smile in place. And, hello, male child number four!
We went to eat afterward, and as I stared into nothingness and moved my food around the plate, my husband asked, "So, what are you thinking?" If you've seen the movie "Overboard" (the original one with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell), there's a scene where "Annie" is completely dazed after her first experience caring for four young, rambunctious boys. She is slumped in a chair, unaware as the kids throw grapes at her face, trying to hit her mouth while she mumbles jibberish. That's what I was thinking about. Well, that and how on earth we would feed four teenage boys someday. Oh, also, I was thinking that I feared for my personal safety. I already had to brace myself for the nightly goodnight kiss and hug routine where I was repeatedly head-butted and tackled to the ground. How could I take on four of them?
But, 54 years after my bold "five daughters/five cats" proclamation, here I am, fully intact, with four sons, one stray cat that I let in the house sometimes, and the full realization that childhood fantasies are fantasies for a reason. I took a minute to mourn what would never be, wrote her a letter, and packed it away with my baptismal dress in the attic. Then I got on with the business of embracing every bit of the blessed messiness of raising four boys. It didn't take long to realize that I got exactly what was meant for me. Who knew? Certainly not me.
I think that's what it all boils down to. We think we know, but very often, we don't. Be open and be grateful. The greatest gifts on this earth come wrapped in unexpected ways sometimes, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to intersect with four of the most amazing humans who call me "Mom."
Thank you, Ben, Jared, Adam, and Andrew, for the adventure of a lifetime. And happy International Daughter's Day to everyone else.
Aren't we all the lucky ones?
p.s. If you haven't read it, check out my blog titled "You Can't Always Get What You Want - If You're Lucky," where I explain how, yet again, I grossly misjudged what I thought I was sure of and almost missed out on this life altogether.