"I don't care, as long as it's healthy!"

So if you're not watching The New Normal, you have to start.  It's great comedy, sprinkled with hilarious parenting advice, such as, "In my day, all you needed to control a child was an icy tone, pursed lips and a squinty eye."

An episode a few weeks back tackled the topic of gender.  Specifically, the gender of our children and how we react to that as parents.  The gay couple expecting their child via surrogate, accidentally finds out the gender of their baby.  One husband is delighted, the other is disappointed.  In his defense, the disappointed hubby posits, no mater how much we pay lip service to the contrary (see title of this post), we all care, deeply, about the sex of our child.

Now go ahead and pretend he's wrong.

All of you out there who wound up with the "wrong" gender kid are going to say, "I was not disappointed at all!"  Of course you'd say that.  How could you possibly admit the person you love more than everything on the planet isn't exactly what you once wanted them to be?

I will be the first to admit, I wanted a girl, BADLY.  H and I had picked the name of our first daughter long before we were even thinking about kids (and, yes, it is the name we gave her), but if you asked me what I would name the child I was carrying should it be male, I responded ala Lucille Bluth, "I don't understand the question and I won't respond to it." I was so invested in having a daughter I couldn't process the idea of it not happening.  You know, because I control the universe and all.
We all have our reasons for desiring a certain gender kid, and usually, it is a child of our own sex.  Unless you are my mother, who only wanted sons.  You know I have a sister, so you see how well that worked out for her.

We all have visions of what parenting will be like.  We look forward to all the meaningful moments we will share with our offspring, and some of those are gender specific.  I looked forward to reading Little House on the Prairie with my daughter, and watching Gilmore Girls while we painted our toenails.  I wanted to watch her play field hockey* and lead her Girl Scout troop.  I wanted to take my twelve year-old shopping at the mall and silently and immediately understand why she thrusts her three-scoop ice cream cone into my hands on the down escalator when the boy she has a crush on approaches on the up escalator like my mother did for me...and then have a talk about food and how if you can't eat in front of a man, he ain't for you and you need some therapy, which my mother didn't do.

That brings us to another point. half the reason I was so invested in having a female child was because of my mother.  A lot of us want to recreate what we had with our own same-gender parent.  I know I basically wanted what my mother and I had minus the, you know, dying young part.  Or maybe it's the opposite. and your parent didn't do the hottest job with you and you want to try it your way with your own kid (see ice cream scenario above).  There is healing in that,  but also A LOT of expectations and that can be really dangerous.

Expectations are what pregnancy is all about, but parenting is about managing expectations, otherwise, we set ourselves up for major failure and disappointment.  Even if you wind up with the sex you wanted, your child may not be interested in all the things you dreamed about doing (when #2 told me Little House was boring, a little part of me died).  Giving birth is the ultimate case of "you get what you get and you don't get upset".  You child was born the person they are.  They were not born to meet your pre-conceived notion of what your family should be.  wWhen I mention parents who wound up with the "wrong" gender child, what I should really write is the "surprise" gender child.  You didn't know what you needed and maybe the universe gave it to you.  I never thought I wanted a boy, and was in shock when the ultrasound technician told me I was having one.  I didn't even think I made that flavor.  But now I can't imagine life without my sloppy, affectionate, goofy little sidekick.  If I'd only gotten what I wanted, I'd never know what I was missing.

Maybe we worry we won't be as connected to a child we won't necessarily share the same life experiences with.  Yes, sharing common interests can promote a strong parent-child relationship, but so can learning something new with your kid.  I now know more about construction vehicles than I ever thought possible. God help me if he plays football though.**  I also worry about how little I think I can teach LM about being a man.  Instead, I should focus on teaching him how to be a good person.  I can also teach him how to treat women, which I think will set him up OK in life.  Or at least his wife.  You're welcome for raising a man who lifts the seat, does his own dishes and knows how to call a florist.


Your kids teach you as much as you teach them and we need to be open to the lessons.  That being said, you know if my first three had all been boys, I'd be sitting here pregnant again. ***

*Which, sadly, has been replaced by girls' lacrosse as the "suburban white girl in kilt" sport, where the rules prevent body contact.  What's up with that?

**The World's Most Boring Sport.
***When H and I were deciding about having a third, he assured his desire was not in an effort to have a boy.  After Little Man's birth he laughed and told me this was, in fact, utter bullshit and he'd keep having them as long as I would to have a son.