By Heather Spiva 
After raising two boys, I’m finally getting a daughter. Though I grew up as a part of a trio of sisters, having girls wasn’t to be a part of my mothering journey. I knew girls. I knew about bows, lip gloss, fashion, and playing dolls. We loved our Disney princesses and took ballet. I knew how sisters could be the worst of enemies and the best of friends.
We played store with our cash registers, we rode bikes to the library, we fixed each other’s hair, and painted our nails. We laughed, we imagined, and we dreamed. Growing up, I felt like one of the sisters in Little Women, with our Marmie alongside us encouraging us in all things.
There’s nothing like a sister, a mom, an aunt, a grandmother, or a female cousin. It’s an instant—and constant—connection no matter how long we’ve been apart or how recently we’ve seen each other. There’s talking, much laughter, a lot of discussions about things that don’t seem important but really are like how to make coffee right, how to look nice, how to clean right, cook right, keep house . . . all the things that are typically female. And important. Whether we want to admit it or not, they were all the things we needed to know to run a house well when it came time to be a parent.
I wanted my experience of having sisters to return (albeit in a slightly different way) with a daughter. But, I had two boys. Nothing, I mean nothing, I learned in my female-dominated past prepared me for how to live with boys.
There is a strange smell constantly emanating from their rooms. They’re loud one minute, then eerily quiet for the next hour. They fight—literally fight and shove and hit and throw punches—all the time. They punch when they’re happy, they punch when they’re angry. It’s in them, and nothing I would say could change this automatic reflex.
Reminding them of deodorant was a daily thing for a while. Reminding them how their clothes shouldn’t be on the floor is still a daily thing for one of my sons. Reminding them that smelling and looking nice is something they’ll want to learn was a daily chore along with having manners.
Combined, they eat more at one meal than my two sisters and I ate all day. Our food bill is like our electric bill: high and always going up. They don’t need to brush their hair, they don’t need many best friends, just each other at the end of the day, and they don’t require input from me for most anything (but I still give it).
They’re quite simple sometimes, and at other times, I wonder at their hormones and how long they’re going to keep an unwarranted scowl on their faces. They don’t need me . . . at least, not like they used to. And if they do, they won’t admit it.
My sisters are good sit-ins for not having a daughter though, and even now, they’re the best sit-ins. I buy fun things like lotion, mugs, or pajamas for our future get-togethers. Whether it’s a spa day, a Christmas stocking stuffer, or a birthday gift. there are so many fun things to buy for a girl.
But, I hadn’t had a girl. I have nieces, but seeing them irregularly doesn’t help. I enjoy buying gifts for them too, but it still isn’t the same as having a daughter. The closeness I see one of my best friends have with her daughter isn’t a part of my life with my boys. We’re close, but not the way mothers and daughters are.
I’ve accepted it. The girlish things that make girls so special aren’t a part of my daily life in the same way they used to be. I love my boys but the girl connection wasn’t a part of it. Until now.
A few weeks ago, my oldest son proposed to his longtime girlfriend. I’m getting a daughter. This thought permeated my mind all that day as I brought her flowers and went to an engagement party with her family. I’m getting a daughter!
She’s a girly girl who loves to do hair, loves anything Disney, wears makeup, likes things that smell good, and bakes cookies like no one’s business. Truly. She’s a professional cookie creator, and it’s a part-time business for her.
I‘m getting a daughter, but I’m getting a daughter who imitates my past with my sisters. When she and I talk about things, it’s like I’ve gone back in time. She laughs with me, gets me, and loves what I love . . . including my son.
Sometimes, God gives us what we want, but those wants take time to evolve, mature, and come to fruition. His timing is perfect even though it took 23 years to see my desire for a daughter manifested. I’m a boy mom, but I’m finally getting a daughter.
by Hannah Carpenter 
by Lauren Eberspacher 
