By Britt LeBoeuf 
I never thought I’d be a boy mom. I never thought I’d hear the words, “It’s a boy!” once, let alone twice, on my motherhood journey. The thought never crossed my mind. It wasn’t that I didn’t want boys; I can’t really tell you why I never thought I’d be a boy mom or why I never envisioned myself surrounded by tiny men, but I didn’t.
I always thought I’d be a mother of girls. I pictured pink and purple dresses, hair ribbons and soft brushes going through long brown hair. I pictured Barbie dolls, dance recitals, and stealing of my makeup. I pictured a younger version of me riding a sparkly fuchsia Huffy down our driveway while yelling back, “Look at me Mom!”
I pictured a bin full of hair accessories dumped on the living room floor, while I sat for her to play beauty salon with mom’s hair. I pictured us wearing matching Easter dresses and toenail colors. I pictured all things sass and sweetness rolled into one cute package.
Life has a way of surprising you. What you imagined your life would be like very rarely is exactly the same. Sure, some of the time it’s not what you had hoped for. Yet, sometimes, it turns out even better than you could have dreamed.
Sometimes, there’s a greater plan than the one we thought we wanted for ourselves. A bigger picture than the one we had always imagined.
I learned this for myself from the moment that ultrasound tech pointed at a penis on the sonogram screen. The life I thought I had wanted changed. All of my plans of having a miniature version of myself shifted. I wasn’t sure what to think then; I was a little unsure of the route. But, once my first baby was born, I was fully onboard with having a son. After suffering two miscarriages on our quest for our second baby, I was sure I’d still have a daughter. So when my rainbow baby turned out to be a boy, too, I was somewhat dumbfounded yet again.
It wouldn’t happen until my second son was mobile that I’d get it. I’d comprehend God’s grand plan for me as a mother of boys.
It took me awhile to notice it. At first, it was in small glimpses at what was yet to come. My older son using terms like “baby brother” with a big smile on his face. Or when people would say how much one boy looked like the other. Or when big brother would pick up little brother’s bottle and give it to him.
As the baby grew and my older son became more interested in him, I really started to see it. The way they would laugh at each other. The look the baby would give his big brother, as if he was the best thing he’d ever seen. The way my oldest would be excited to see his baby brother when he got off the school bus in the afternoon.
I started to realize I was given this job for a reason. I was meant to be the maker of a brotherhood. I was made to teach these future men how to be tender and tough all at the same time. I was made to show them a mother’s grace and what a strong woman looks like.
They were meant to be mine. When I see the connection they share I understand it. Although I definitely would have loved a daughter just the same, and being a mother of boys wasn’t a path I thought I’d follow, I know now it is my purpose in this life. To nurture, love, and encourage these two beautiful creatures into strong, caring, smart men. Is there a greater calling? I think not.
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