Navigating Gender Guilt Between Friends

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Feeling guilty over your friend's gender envy? Same here. A close friend’s comments about my daughters left me uneasy, but thanks to expert advice, I’m planning a kind, honest convo to set boundaries and celebrate our families equally.

“You’re so lucky you have girls. I’m stuck with boys.”

I felt my body freeze, and tried (successfully, I hope) to hide it. I couldn’t believe what Jane said—and she’d said it before.

How awkward.

Jane was my first work bestie. We bonded immediately in our early 20s, moved through various careers and boyfriends, and as time marched on, we both had children.

Overall, Jane is a true-blue buddy. She gives amazing advice, is funny, and always checks in on me.

But if we’re such good friends, why does she take little pot shots at me over something I couldn’t control, like my kid’s genders?

The Gender Guilt

Jane and I were pregnant around the same time with our first babies. At 19 weeks, I learned I was having a girl. Honestly, I had no gender preference. I could picture myself as either a girl mom or a boy mom. Sometimes I wonder if that’s because I grew up with younger sisters and a younger brother.

I love my daughters, but for me, personally, I never felt that having girls was some special destiny. The idea of having both a girl and a boy someday floated through my brain, but it was casual and fleeting.

To strongly clarify: I understand gender disappointment is real and valid. I promise, I do.

But why did Jane make me feel weird about having daughters? I didn’t choose my kids’ genders…it’s 50/50, and my OBGYNs swore male sperm determines gender. (So shouldn’t Jane be technically “mad” at my husband?)

Patience Is a Virtue

It’s reached a point where I don’t want to mention my daughters around Jane in any capacity, because she’ll comment: “You have your own little dress-up dolls at home to put in pink tutus! Boy clothes are ugly.” (Neither of my girls sport tutus anymore; or like the color pink, but I don’t even bother bringing that up. Feels pointless.)

Ok, confession. I’ve been patient long enough. I had tough pregnancies with both of my daughters; with scary medical emergencies that landed me in the ER three times. It’s not like I have this perfect TikTok life with easy pregnancies and always-angelic kids. (Does such a thing even exist? Yes, on TV sitcoms.)

I’m tired of feeling like a bad person because I had daughters. And honestly? Jane’s little dudes are great…smart, charming, sweet, and their clothes are NOT ugly. I wonder how they’d feel hearing their mom say this stuff to me.

I needed advice on how to keep our friendship while stopping the subtle digs. Enough was enough.

So, I asked psychotherapist Janet Bayramyan, LCSW, founder of Road to Wellness Therapy to share some insight.

Be Tactful

“From a therapist's lens, you are not responsible for her reaction or her grief. It’s okay to both hold joy for your own pregnancy and compassion for her sadness,” says Bayramyan. “What you’re feeling is survivor’s guilt in a softer, more emotional form: ‘Why did I get what she wanted?’ It’s natural, but not something to carry shame about.”

She suggested telling Jane: “I see how hard this is for you. I care deeply, and I hope we can support each other through both our feelings.”

Another option? Bayramyan recommends kindly stating: “I know you’ve always dreamed of having a daughter and I know how much love you give your boys. I really believe all kids are a blessing, and yours are amazing humans.”

Or, I can set a gentle boundary with Jane by stating: “I’ve noticed it’s hard for me when you compare. I never see my family as ‘better,’ just different. I’d love it if we could celebrate both our families.”

Harp on the Friendship

If needed, name the impact, advises Bayramyan, by saying something to Jane like: “I feel a bit uncomfortable when it sounds like I’m luckier than you. I really value our friendship, and it’s important to me that we both feel respected in our experiences.”

According to Bayramyan, while Jane may not intend harm, her repeated comments and comparisons put me “in a position of emotional responsibility for her unmet hopes. That isn’t yours to carry.”

Ease the Guilt

Armed with this sound advice, I plan to talk to Jane soon and will remind myself of this: “Friendship, especially in parenting, can be layered with grief, comparison, and longing,” says Bayramyan. “But ideally, it’s also a place of mutual support, not one-sided envy or guilt.”

On a personal note, Bayramyan—who has an infant son—openly shares: “I can confidently say that I initially thought my preference would be to have a girl, but now that he is here and I am a full-fledged boy mom, I cannot imagine not being a boy mom.”

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