Me after my first birth experience in 2014 compared to my second in 2016 Both times I had a healthy baby, and it was certainly not all that mattered.
Thirdly, and this is the most controversial, when pregnant we are bombarded with questions about what gender our baby is, whether we know, or are going to find out, or if we have a preference. The shops are filled with gender specific clothing, accessories and other paraphernalia (usually blue versus pink) in a sickly display that sets apart the two genders from before they are even born. At a time when we already have many important decisions to make we find ourselves wondering if we should pay the £50 for the private gender scan that everyone raves about- so we can ‘prepare’?
We answer the barrage of questions from friends, family, neighbours, strangers on the bus, with “All that matters is…” whether we feel that way or not because often, if we can be honest with ourselves, we imagine what it might be like to have a baby girl or a baby boy but we are made to feel like it shouldn’t matter, or that it is selfish in some way.
The issue of gender disappointment is sensitive. Yes, those who have experienced loss or difficulty conceiving may well feel grateful no matter the gender of their baby. It doesn’t mean not being grateful for your baby, healthy or not. In addition, those who have transitioned from one gender to the other, or who consider themselves non-binary to either gender might not understand or enjoy this conversation. And that’s ok, because I’m not speaking for you, and I acknowledge your voice is important too.
I’m speaking to, and for, those of us who have, or have had, a deep desire to parent a boy or a girl. For me, having a girl meant I might be able to one day have a mother-daughter relationship that lasted longer than the 19 short years that mine and my mother’s lasted before she was stolen from us. It meant more than pink dresses and pony-tails; it was claiming back something from the universe that had been taken before I was ready. I imagined having the conversations that I never got to have with my mum, drinking coffee (or wine) together, providing the comfort of home for a grown up woman with her own family. Being a grandparent to her children, something my mum never got to experience and it breaks my heart every day.