Gender Bias

A pregnant woman can expect to be asked a myriad of personal questions once people notice the bump. From the harmless, "When are you due?" to the offensive, "Was this baby planned?" nothing seems to be off limits to little old ladies in the produce aisle. One of the more common inquiries is, "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

When someone asks this question, one is supposed to answer, "It doesn't matter as long as the baby is healthy."

This is much more polite than, "None of your damn business, Q-tip Head". It's also a plain and honest answer. After all, a healthy baby trumps any other hopes you have for your child.

However, I always felt a little dishonest giving this response. Yes, a healthy baby was, and is, the most important goal, but that doesn't mean I haven't also had strong preferences in regards to the baby's sex as well.

My truly honest answer to that question would have to be, "Gimme some more healthy baby girls, bitches!" because that's what I want most of all.

Once upon a time, gender didn't matter so much to me. When pregnant with Ellis, I had a slight preference, but I don't remember feeling as strongly about it as I did when expecting Madeline. During that pregnancy, I wanted a pink baby...bad. Maybe the urgent desire was the result of losing my first baby girl.

When Eric and I started talking about expanding the family last year, I thought the pressure was off. I had my healthy little Maddie Bear all dressed in pink and could be happily ambivalent about the the sex of the next child. So, imagine my surprise when I got pregnant and found myself crossing all my fingers and toes for a girl yet again.

Don't get me wrong, we wouldn't have returned a male child to the stork, and if we were having a boy instead of a girl, I'd be writing about the excitement for a our new adventure. Besides, I have four very nice nephews who prove that boys aren't bad at all.

Still, before finding out that we were indeed having another girl, I'd spontaneously cry out, "Oh my God, Eric, what if it's a boy?!" from time to time.

I just couldn't wrap my mind around the concept. What would it be like? We'd have to paint the bedroom something less pink. What about names? Few boys' names appeal to me, and most of the ones I do like would likely lead to recess beatings. How would I talk him out of playing football? Or the tuba? Would we circumcise him or is that unnecessary mutilation? How does one take care of a baby penis anyhow?

Luckily, these are all issues I won't ever have to concern myself with. (Except maybe the tuba.) Now, I can stick to worrying about the overall drama that is the teenage female.

Yet, beyond the basic unfamiliarity and inconvenience of adding a boy to the mix, it simply wasn't the way I pictured our family. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I feel like we were meant to raise girls. (In my brain, our reproductive necessities wear tiny pink bows on their heads. TMI?).  In short, we're thrilled to be having a second girl.

I keep thinking of what my friend, Emily, said.  "Eric and three ginger girls?!  That's a sitcom."  While the jury is still out on the ginger aspect, it will be fun watching Eric raise two girls. There's really nobody better suited to the task of putting up with three women under the same roof. Eric's an amazingly calm, patient, and gentle person. If things get really rough, he'll simply retreat to the basement to play his trumpet in peace.

So even though the polite and technically correct answer is to say that a baby's sex doesn't matter, I wonder how many women actually mean it. I admire those who do. I think for the most part people say it because it's easier than having an intimate conversation with grannies in the produce aisle, or because they don't want to jinx anything.

As it is, after writing this in front of God and everybody, I'm a bit worried that our baby will come out with three penises just to make the question of circumcision that much more difficult.