My Million-Dollar Family

“Will you be trying for a girl next?”

The first person to ask me this was an L&D nurse, mere hours after my second son was born. Considering my baby was at that moment on oxygen in the special care nursery, having another child of either sex was the last thing on my mind. But circumstances aside, I resented the implication that having another boy must be a disappointment to me.

Family members, friends, co-workers and even strangers seem to have a vested interest in the sex of our children. It all started when my husband and I announced our first pregnancy. We were immediately told by certain people who shall remain nameless, “It better be a girl!” An off-hand remark, to be sure, but we knew we were having a boy. Well, we didn’t “know”, because we’d chosen not to find out the sex prior to the birth, but we had a strong feeling. And we were right: Boy #1 was born in 2004. If anyone was disappointed, they hid it well, and I am convinced he could not be more loved.

However, when we announced we were having another child, what did the same people say? You guessed it: “It had better be a sister for Boy #1!” After all, one boy + one girl = the Million Dollar family! Right?

This time we decided to find out the sex of the baby – in part so we could talk to our first born about his new brother- or sister-to-be. But we had another reason for finding out: we didn’t want to spend the rest of the pregnancy hearing that those around us were wishing for something – someone -- they might not get.

I cried when I heard that I was carrying a boy. The ultrasound technician asked if this was a good thing or a bad thing. I assured her, mine were tears of joy. I had always had a feeling that I would have two sons. A psychic even told me I would (so she was wrong about the twins thing…) Boy #2 was born in 2007.

Don’t get me wrong. I would have loved a little girl. Or two. Just as much. And trust me, I know this sort of thing goes both ways: I’m the third of three daughters, so my parents got their fair share of rude comments! But I have sons. Two amazing, adorable, loveable, wonderful boys, and I would not change a thing. Nor do I feel my life is lacking because of the dearth of pink in our house. So why does it seem like others feel sorry for me because I don’t have, and probably never will have, a daughter? I for one don’t look at families with “only” sons or “only” daughters (or “only” one child) and think, “how sad!” But apparently some people do. Otherwise, how to explain these assumptions and questions?

Now our family is complete, but the comments continue: “Sons are great, but…”; “This family needs girls, girls, girls!”; and of course the ubiquitous, “Will you be trying for a girl next?” Worst of all, these things are said in the presence of my boys. I am worried my sons will grow up thinking they’d be loved more, if only people could buy them pretty pink dresses. That my husband and I are the ones wishing one of them had been a girl. That there is something wrong with being a boy.

I won’t be having more babies, but please, don’t pity me because I haven’t got one of each. I am beyond thrilled with my two happy, healthy boys. In the words of my father, who was often asked how he ended up with three daughters: “I’m just lucky I guess.”