Having a healthy baby is surely up there on the scale of life’s most momentous, amazing and precious experiences; it’s a gift unlike no other. And so you would think that a child’s sex is irrelevant – who cares, right? At least, that was the case for my husband and I both times we were blessed with a bouncing, healthy baby – two gorgeous, much-wanted daughters, as in our case.
Both times, I was certain I was having a boy, but secretly chuffed, actually, to be having girls. I’d always wanted a sister growing up and I love that our girls will (hopefully) always have that special sisterly, best-friend bond; they’ll never be alone, no matter what happens to us.
And yet, both times, before I’d even left the maternity hospital, some no-doubt well-meaning family member, friend or midwife had asked either myself or my husband if we would try for a third baby given we hadn’t yet achieved the miracle of a boy child.
Quelle horreur!? We couldn’t actually – gasp – just be happy with our two girls and be done with it?! No, I/we had failed in the breeding stakes and now we must surely get on to the all-important task of making a boy ASAP!
Excuse me, but f*** that. I’m so done. In fact, we’re both done. A vasectomy is our next pressing task – not more breeding. And we’ve both been a tad shocked and then saddened each time my husband or I have been, quite rudely, asked: “Do you feel like you’re missing out, not having a son?”
Our family is complete and we’re very happy with our lot in life, thank you very much. Besides, what is not to love about having girls? It’s hard to believe that in 2015 there’s still a pervading sense of familial and societal disappointment when a woman/couple doesn’t produce a son. You’d think society had progressed since the time of infamous Henry VIII of England in the Tudor dynasty, who allegedly killed off several of his six wives for not producing a son and heir, but apparently not.
Unfortunately for Hazza’s poor, blameless victims, this was well before science discovered it was actually a man’s genes which determine a baby’s sex. Our bright, curious, loving, affectionate, endlessly fun and wilful daughters aged one and three are wonderful and – long may it last – absolutely adore each other.
I love dressing them up; taking them out shopping/for babyccinos and reading endless books to them, at their request. They’re boisterous, friendly wrestling is a sight to behold and both can kick a soccer ball in manner of young Ronaldos.
Long live the sisterhood and girl power: I can’t wait to teach them everything I know – feminism included.
Every child is a precious gift – girls included. So, don’t feel sorry for us, thanks very much. Daughters rock!
What do you think? Did you feel pressure to try for a son?
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