I was the worst candidate in the world to be a boy mom.

I liked calm and quiet. Boys are crazy and loud.

I liked everything organized. Boys like destruction.

I liked cleanliness. Boys like dirt and mud.

I liked cuddling. Boys like wrestling.

I hated bugs and worms. Boys want to keep them as pets.

I thought bodily noises (and everything that goes along with them) were gross. Boys want to talk (and laugh) about them all the time.

So you can understand why I questioned God’s decision to give me two sons, especially when I had such a deep desire for a daughter. I grew up surrounded by girls. I was comfortable with girls. I knew I could raise a girl. I had plans for her. Plans for us. And besides, I already knew her name. But do you know what God told me?

As well as you may think you know your heart, I’m the One Who created it. I know what you need.

Simple as that.

He knew something I didn’t. Every single detail about these two precious children I carried was created with me in mind. He knew their sweet yet ornery personalities would make me laugh but also challenge me. He knew their long, dark eyelashes and cute, little noses would cause me to sit and stare at them long after they’d fallen asleep. He knew the sound of their adorable voices saying “I love you” would completely melt my heart. Every. Single. Time.

He knew I wanted a daughter. He knew the plans I’d already made for her and the disappointment I would experience knowing those plans would never play out, yet He gave me two sons. Despite my plans, despite my dreams, and despite my feelings. That alone makes it clear just how much I need them. You see, my heart was designed to love boys. I was created to raise boys. But something inside me constantly questioned if I really had what it takes to navigate that unfamiliar territory.

Now I know I’ve had what it takes all along.

As it turns out, the constant noise I was worried about isn’t that bad when it’s mixed with belly laughs and giggles.

Where I see destruction, their imaginations see forts, construction sites, space stations, and obstacle courses to conquer.

Want to play in the dirt and mud? Go for it. When you’re done I’m going to throw you in the bathtub and scrub you down anyway.

I lucked out in the wrestling department. Apparently, I wrestle the “wrong way” so my sons save all of their energy for my husband, who I assume knows how to wrestle the “right way”.

Bugs and worms? I figure if my two- and four-year-old sons can handle them, I should be able to as well. Right?

I still think bodily noises (and everything that goes along with them) are gross but I’ve come such a long way in this department. I learned early on that if you’re going to have a baby, you need to be completely comfortable discussing anything that comes out of that baby. Enough said.

For months after our youngest son was born, I couldn’t walk into the nursery without picturing how it would look decorated in different shades of pink and purple. I couldn’t go shopping without my heart sinking when I saw the sparkly tutus, frilly little dresses, and glittery hair bows knowing we would never own any of them. Then one day as I was hanging yet another construction t-shirt in my son’s closet, I realized it had been weeks since I’d thought about any of those things. Somehow a major shift had happened in my heart. I can’t explain when or why the shift happened but I can definitely tell you Who did the shifting.

The One Who created my heart.

The One Who has known what I needed all along.

The One Who looked at me and knew without a doubt I would be the perfect candidate for a boy mom.