I never envisioned myself as a mother with sons. Even in high school when we did the project where you pretend a bag of flour is a baby, I was excited when I drew the slip saying that my bag of flour was a girl. I didn't even want boy flour.
But now? The only girl I've birthed weighed five pounds and was later made into cookies. And the boys I've birthed have caused me to say things I've never imagined. Like, "Stop hitting your brother with that rolled up yoga mat. No, I don't care if he's laughing, that doesn't mean you keep hitting him." or "Keep your hands on your own parts. I SAID ON YOUR OWN PARTS." or "Yes, burping is funny, but if you keep trying to do it, you're going to injure yourself." or my personal favorite, "If you want to talk about things that happen in the bathroom, you may go sit in the bathroom and talk to the mirror."
What I really never imagined, though, was how much I'd love this, how much they'd complete me. How could I have ever thought that I didn't want them?