The moment I found out I was having a boy at the doctor’s office, let’s just say, I didn’t do a dance, or laugh ecstatically, or even cry tears of joy. You want the truth? I was a little disappointed.

I grew up with two sisters. Two sisters of whom I was close to, loved being with, fought with, painted nails with, talked about boys with, danced with, and was girly-girly with. We all had long hair, danced ballet, and loved pink and pretty things. I only knew girlish things.

When the nurse told me she saw boy “parts” on the ultrasound screen, a little part of me died. Not in a bad way. It was more of a realization that the old life, the only one I had known, was going to be be different, but this foreign life would be my new way of life.

What did I know about boys?

I had a wonderful, hard-working father and tons of male cousins. So, I knew what boys were about. In theory. But, I didn’t know what made them tick. How would I understand them?

And how could I relate to little boys?

What did I know about play guns, sword-fighting, legos, poop-and-fart- jokes –and every other joke in between –and how in the world did I manage the whole lack of girlish things in my life?

I wouldn’t get to a nail salon with my son. I wouldn’t get my hair done with him. I wouldn’t go to mother daughter teas, and I definitely wouldn’t really get to go to camps with him in the same way if I had a daughter. I would do none of that because I was raising a boy. Raising a boy to become a man.

Fast-forward fourteen years. I can now tell you a few things that I never thought I would understand.

I love boys. I love, love, love boys. They are funny. They are loud. They fight. They are obnoxious and dirty and smelly. As someone once said, boys are dirt with noise. That is what they are! 100%. But, I’m in love with my son. I can’t imagine having had a girl, instead of him. I love him beyond words.

I get to walk into his room in the morning and plug my nose just to get to the window, so I can open it before the funk of his smelly room knocks me over. I get to watch him grow taller than me, I get to see him learn to shave, hear his voice change.

Oh, and did I tell you that I also have a second son? Yes. Two boys. And he’s just as remarkable as my first son. And get this: I prayed to have a second son. Not a girl, but another boy. And I got him!

So, how did I go from being terrified about have a boy, to wanting two of them? And loving them with all my heart that some days I can’t stand it? I don’t know. That is a real mystery.

But I do know that God doesn’t always give us what we want. His reason for this is because he has something better. He gives us what we need.

This “better” for me, was my boys.

Dirty, smelly, tall, muscular, protective, annoying, sweet, loving boys.

I can’t imagine my life without them. I am better with boys than any arrangements I could’ve ever thought of.

And thank God for that.

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About the Author

Heather Spiva

I am a in Sacramento, California, spend most of my time swashbuckling with my two boys, and love selling vintage clothing through my Etsy store.