The Confession No One Likes to Talk About
When I was pregnant with my first baby, I felt something I wasn’t prepared for: disappointment. Not disappointment in her, but in the quiet reality that the dream I had carried, the little life I had imagined, wasn’t going to match the one I was given.
I think part of why it hit me so hard was because I truly believed I was having a boy. I had that strong, instinctual feeling a lot of moms talk about. I was so convinced that when the moment came and it wasn’t what I expected, it wasn’t just surprise. It was grief for the story I had been quietly writing in my heart.
Years ago, I wrote about this in a blog post called “Why I Regretted My Gender Reveal Party.” It was met with some support, but surprisingly to me, it also unleashed a lot of backlash.
I was shocked by the amount of women who were angry with me for simply having feelings. And honestly, I think a lot of them didn’t even read the whole post.
It wasn’t that I was upset I was having a girl. It was that as a first-time mom, pregnant for the first time, I didn’t have the life experience yet of what it feels like to think you know and then find out differently.
It was a learning experience for me. You really shouldn’t grow too attached to hopes for one gender over another because it really is a 50/50 chance. But the biggest part that so many missed?
I wasn’t upset about having a girl. I was mourning the fact that I wasn’t having a boy and, more importantly, I wished I had found out earlier, privately, just us, to process that moment in peace.
What Gender Disappointment Really Is
Gender disappointment is grief. It’s not about rejecting your baby. It’s about letting go of the picture you had painted in your mind.
You can mourn an idea while still loving your reality.
Feelings aren’t wrong. They don’t mean you are ungrateful or unworthy. They just mean you are human.
Why It’s Okay to Feel It
I believe everyone is entitled to their feelings. You’re allowed to feel sad about one thing while being happy about another. You can mourn the son you thought you might have and celebrate the daughter you’re blessed with.
But, and here’s the catch, just because someone else feels angry about your feelings doesn’t mean you’re wrong for having them.
Some women responded to my post by saying that because they had experienced infertility or loss, I should have been grateful just to be pregnant. And I was grateful. Grateful and sad. Those things can live in the same heart at the same time.
I’ve experienced miscarriage myself. I understand that pain deeply. But that doesn’t erase the complicated emotions that come with gender disappointment, and it doesn’t make them wrong.
It’s also okay if you feel upset or even angry reading this. Emotions are natural, we can’t always control what we feel in the moment.
But what we can control is what we do with those feelings. It’s one thing to feel upset; it’s another to tear someone down because of it. Just like I’m learning to hold space for the complexity of my emotions, I believe we can hold space for each other’s, too, even when they don’t make sense or align with our own experiences.
The Pressure to Be ‘Grateful’
When you’re pregnant, there’s a lot of pressure to be endlessly, tirelessly grateful. To squash any feelings that don’t fit the glowing, grateful, overjoyed script.
But gratitude doesn’t mean denying the truth of your emotions. Gratitude doesn’t mean silencing sadness.
You are allowed to feel what you feel. Grief for what you imagined. Joy for what you have. Fear for the unknown. Hope for what’s ahead.
What People Get Wrong About Gender Disappointment
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there are so many myths around gender disappointment, and most of them are flat-out wrong.
People think if you feel gender disappointment, it must mean you don’t love your baby. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Love for your child isn’t conditional on the gender they are born with. Love grows from knowing them, caring for them, holding them, not from a sonogram or a color-coded reveal.
Another myth is that it’s a selfish or ungrateful emotion. But disappointment isn’t a choice. You don’t wake up and decide to grieve the loss of a dream. It just happens, quietly and honestly.
And maybe the biggest misconception of all is that gender disappointment is rare or shameful. The truth is, it’s incredibly common. It’s just that not enough women feel safe to say it out loud.
Why Early Gender Reveals (or Private Reveals) Matter
One thing I’ve reflected on so much since that experience is the way we do gender reveals. There’s this pressure now to turn it into a public celebration. Balloons, confetti, a big moment surrounded by family and friends. But what if it’s not a celebration moment for everyone?
I honestly wish I had found out privately, just the two of us, before the party, before the cameras, before the expectations. I wish we had a quiet moment to sit with our feelings, to process, to shift from the dream in our heads to the reality in front of us without the eyes of everyone else on us, expecting instant joy.
Not everyone needs a gender reveal to be a performance. Some of us need it to be private. Some of us need the space to feel before we can celebrate.
If you’re planning your own gender reveal, or wondering how to handle it, it’s okay to give yourself permission to keep it small, private, quiet, and to feel whatever you feel without an audience.
If I did it again, I would want to find out the gender first and only surprise family and friends at the party.
How to Cope with Gender Disappointment
If you’re feeling this too, here’s what helped me:
- Acknowledge the feeling. Pretending you’re fine only buries it deeper.
- Talk to someone safe. Someone who will listen without judgment.
- Give yourself time. You will bond with this baby.
- Let go of guilt. Emotions are not moral failures.
It’s okay to grieve the dream of the son or daughter you imagined and still love the child you’re growing with your whole heart.
Final Thoughts
I’ve had three girls now and I am done having kids.
If I could go back and change anything, if I had the chance to swap one for a son, I never, ever would.
I love my daughters beyond anything words could describe.
But I am also allowed to feel a little sad that I’ll never have a son. Both things are true. One doesn’t cancel out the other.
All I ever wanted to be in this life was a mother. And while my journey didn’t unfold exactly the way I once dreamed, it became something even better than I could have imagined.
Have you experienced gender disappointment? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below. Let’s create a space where every emotion is welcome.
