Gender disappointment
I found out that I’m having a boy, and I’ve felt a lot of disappointment and guilt for even feeling that way.
I grew up in a South Asian culture where having boys is often celebrated in a very particular way. I grew up in the U.S., so the differences between how my brother and I were raised weren’t necessarily obvious or extreme, but looking back, I do feel like there were subtle differences.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve actually become very close with my mom. I also see my mom and many of my aunties talk about how much they struggle with their sons, while turning to their daughters to vent, seek emotional support, and maintain that close relationship. It has made me realize how often daughters become such an important part of their parents’ lives and, statistically, are more likely to become caregivers and emotional support systems for their parents.
I became that person in my own family at a young age. As the older sister, I felt like I had to grow up quickly and support my mom emotionally through years of domestic abuse, while also supporting my brother through years of depression.
Now that I’m older, I think part of me really wanted the opportunity to raise a girl. Maybe there was a little girl inside me who wanted the chance to give her the kind of love, protection, and relationship that I wished I had experienced. And, honestly, because boys are celebrated so much in our culture, I didn’t want people to be especially excited for me simply because I was having a boy.
I never viewed one gender as superior to the other. I just had this particular dream of raising a daughter.
Then I found out I was having a boy, and everyone around me seemed genuinely thrilled. My brother especially wanted a nephew, and even my mom—who knew how much I initially wanted a girl—said to me, “Even though it doesn’t matter, people in our culture do get more excited when they find out it’s a boy.”
I know she probably didn’t mean it in the way it landed, but that comment really hurt me. I told her not to say things like that because she knows how I felt about wanting a girl. She reassured me that she doesn’t differentiate between boys and girls and that, even when she was younger and people’s opinions were much stronger, she was genuinely excited to have a daughter.
I believe her when she says that, but I still find myself wondering whether, deep down, she may have wanted a boy too, especially knowing that she does carry some internalized misogyny from the culture she grew up in.
And I think that’s part of why this has been so complicated for me. My disappointment isn’t because I think a boy is less valuable than a girl. It’s because having a daughter represented something deeply personal to me—maybe even something healing. And now I’m trying to separate my own feelings and experiences from the cultural expectations and gender dynamics I grew up around.
I know I will love my son. I already do. I just think I need to give myself permission to grieve the daughter I had imagined, without feeling like that makes me ungrateful for the baby I’m actually having.