Off the Record: Mourning the Loss of Girlhood

Off the Record is a place for our community to share their thoughts—good, bad, and sticky—anonymously. This week: Married 30-year-old, pregnant with her first, violently spiraling over a gender reveal.

At 9 a.m., I found myself sitting in the stillness of my 14th week of pregnancy, dealing with an unexpected plot twist. I had been wronged by a witch—the intuition of a friend’s sister who had rightly predicted the gender of everyone’s children but my own. Her prophecy for me: a girl. I clung to this and dreamt of my firstborn daughter. But the NIPT test said otherwise. I was having a boy. And I was upset. 

By 11 a.m., I’d been crying for hours, and my husband had had enough. Rightly so. I sounded ungrateful, cruel even, bitching about what so many struggle to achieve. To cruise through a first pregnancy, no fertility issues, no morning sickness, only to be violently upset over a blue blanket. Asshole behavior. (I’m worried that writing this down feels like a jinx to myself and my child, by the way, hence the anonymity.) 

And yet... boy mom? It felt creepy. It didn’t fit. I had been raised in a house full of girls. It was Little Women minus the idyllic cottage. I hated Laurie. I can’t stand Timotheé Chalamet, either. What was I supposed to do with a boy? I was already mourning the loss of girlhood, the realization that my home might never be filled with its presence.

Now to be clear: I don't hate men. But I do think it’s a lot easier to be a “bad” man than a “bad” woman. On the mild side, many fail to meet the bare minimum of care, empathy, accountability. I know a lot of men who fall into this category. I do not respect them. I have good friends who’ve married them. On the extreme side? Real-world violence is a male epidemic. 

I can do my best as a parent, but boys will always grow up in a culture that coddles them. Their bad behavior is often excused and hardly rectified. And outside influences will seep in despite my best efforts. How do I prevent incel politics from landing on their algorithm? What if media literacy continues to devolve and uplift the likes of Andrew Tate? Our world is fueled by tech. I can only withhold an iPad for so long. That lack of control feels terrifying.
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By 5:30 p.m., after hours of spiraling, I’d shared my frustrations with a good friend who I deeply admire, a mother to a son and daughter. I told her I was worried my bias would impact my parenting. She reminded me that it’s fine to be upset but I would have to reframe my perspective, and quickly. That it would be a privilege to raise a son that mirrored the emotional maturity of my husband. That there should be no difference in the way I would raise a son to the way I would raise a daughter. 

By 11 p.m., I lay in bed and thought about this conversation. I was still confused, but the conversation offered a path forward. I turned to my husband and asked if he had any names in mind.