If you didn’t already know, let me tell you.
I’m pregnant.
This isn’t a post about fear and trepidation and fear and lots of doctors appointments and fear and medications that used to cost a lot of money and now cost even more (thanks, new insurance!), as I could easily ramble on and on about those topics. It’s about X vs. Y.
The personal X vs. Y question came to a conclusion this past Monday, when we found out that baby was surprisingly an XX. I say surprisingly for no reason other than I thought it would be a boy, because that’s all I’ve known. Even though obviously a healthy baby as close to term as possible is my ultimate goal, for a split second it didn’t feel right to have a girl. Then, as I was gently reminded by a few friends, there is no replacement for Hank, and this is not a new version of him kicking furiously away at the moment. Baby 2.0 is a completely new person that will never know her older brother, and may struggle when someone asks her if she has siblings in the same way people for some Godforsaken reason always want to ask me if this is my first baby (how I answer depends on my mood and who asks).
I’ve been reading a lot this week about boys vs. girls, and the differences in raising both. Everyone has advice about this topic, both professional and personal, founded and unfounded. Bottom line to me is that each gender has its own rough patches and smooth seas. While science shows that they develop at different stages, boys and girls all eventually turn out to be adults. Isn’t my job supposed to be the best parent I can be, exposing them to as many different things as I can, in hopes that when it’s time for my XX to make a decision, she makes a decent one? Trucks or dolls, glitter or mud, I hope my child gets a taste of all of it.
So, XX or XY- makes no difference to me (although I hope this XX doesn’t mind a lot of blue clothing). I’m excited at a new chance for a child, period.
Copyright 2014 Anne Mathay