By: Emma Johnson
Updated: Feb. 8, 2017
Originally Published: Jan. 30, 2017
I highly doubt anyone would approach me in a grocery store to say, “I’m sorry you don’t have blonde hair,” or “That outfit would look better with a cardigan.” Such comments would be ridiculous, right? It’s absurd for a stranger to judge me based on appearances while I’m simply navigating the aisles with my shopping cart. Yet, this kind of judgment happens to me often—though it’s not about my looks, but about my children. I have four boys, and the unsolicited opinions about larger families are rampant. (“You do know how that happens, right? Heh heh.”) But the fact that all four of my kids are boys seems to turn that judgment into something more.
Sometimes, I can brush off the comments, especially when someone shares that they had all sons as well and how my family brings back fond memories for them. What bothers me is the sympathy—something I’ve never quite grasped. The pitying gazes, the condescending “Bless your heart,” or “You sure have your hands full,” delivered with an unmistakable tone of, “Wow, your life must be chaotic.” It’s as if people believe my family is somehow incomplete without a “little princess” in the mix.
This sentiment was most palpable when I was pregnant with my fourth son. When I revealed the gender, the overwhelming response from about 90% of people was one of clear disappointment. Some of my closest family members even offered apologies, saying, “I’m so sorry you didn’t get your girl.” What does one say to such a comment, especially when you’re excited about the baby you’re carrying? I’m amazed I didn’t snap under the pressure.
I’m sure parents of girls face similar situations. When children share the same gender, it seems to grant people the right to assume we’re unhappy with our “lack of variety” and pry into our future family plans as if we need to resolve some imaginary issue. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked if my husband and I were going to try for a girl, I could fund a dozen adoptions. After years of struggling with infertility before welcoming our first son, the notion that I should desire anything more is infuriating.
What’s worse is that these comments are often made in front of my sons. As if they aren’t listening and absorbing the notion that I should be wanting something different. This is precisely why I’m done having kids; the last thing I need is for a girl to validate others’ misguided beliefs that I somehow failed with my first four. I want my boys to understand that they are more than enough. I’m not yearning for anyone who isn’t here. Their love and energy fill my life with joy, leaving no room for feeling incomplete.
I have a beautiful, wonderful family made up of four miracles I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to raise. So why on earth should anyone feel sorry for me?
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Summary:
In this piece, Emma Johnson addresses the unsolicited sympathy she receives as a mother of four boys, highlighting the absurdity of societal judgments surrounding family dynamics and gender. She emphasizes the joy and completeness her sons bring to her life, urging others to stop feeling sorry for her family.