Ruffled Feathers and Baby Junk
"Wow. Yep, this is happening", I thought as I stared squinty-eyed at that faint second line on the dollar store pregnancy test. With each passing day, that second line got darker and the realization that we would be a family of 5 in 40 short weeks began to sink in. What an amazingly joyous little secret an embryo makes. What a tough secret it is to keep though, Mother Nature is one twisted chickita. You're supposed to keep your fertilized blob under wraps until at least 12 weeks, that seems to be the generally agreed-upon rule. Ah, but it's during those early weeks that you're most likely to fall victim to public barfing-I've been there. 5 years ago, I had to casually stroll away from a splatter of vomit I left on a subway platform during rush hour. It's when you need the understanding and support of those around you the most that you're least likely to get it because you're keeping your trap shut. How many times can a girl claim to be stricken by food-borne illness?
After surviving those first 12 weeks, I gleefully let people in on the secret. I happily shared my joy at the prospect of another sweet baby to care for, to laugh at, to wonder at. People are good, kind and well meaning but the responses of those around me were sometimes startling. I regularly heard "OH. MY. GOD. Another one?! You must be nuts!" This comment has a way of making me anxious and insecure, convincing me that the other person has info that I'm not privy to. I think "Oh shit. What does she know that I don't? Am I crazy to do this?! What if I'm only one kidlet away from complete and utter insanity and this person can see it?" I usually take a deep breath and think about the Duggars. I smirk at their neat, pleated, khakis and Mrs. Duggar's frumpy hair; then I feel better about having only 3 kids. Hey, if those space cadets can manage 19 kids, I can wrangle 3. I thank you, Duggar family-you are...umm...delightful.
If it's not an innocent joke about my mental stability, it's usually a comment about my baby's future genitals. Yes, I have 2 boys. Yes, I confess that I would love to have a daughter too but there's very little that I can do about that. I'm not able to place a direct order and track the shipping. I honestly believe that people don't mean to ruffle my feathers when they say "Ooooooh! I bet you're really hoping for a girl this time, eh?" or, worse, "Ooooooh! You'll probably be disappointed if you get another boy, eh?". But my feathers be ruffled, bitches. I can't help but feel that these comments make a judgement about what I already have-2 funny, sweet, clever, wonderful boys. Another one of those would have been very welcome, indeed. We make damn good boys. It seems that there's an assumption that a boy would be deemed lesser than a girl. Comments like these make me defensive about a person who may not even exist, and who doesn't need to be protected from hurt feelings. I find myself wanting to snap in my snarkiest tone, "Disappointed?! He'd be perfect! He'd be perfect for us and we don't want your crinkly-browed, sad eyed, pity faces!". Instead, I smile and say "Sure, a girl would be a bonus, but I've seen the boys we make and they're pretty cool." Our 20 week ultrasound revealed that we're having a girl after-all. I'm overjoyed, of course, but I won't believe it until I see that teeny vajayjay with my own eyes. I imagine that a girl will be a breath of fresh air around here, but I hope she gets a kick outta Hot Wheels cars because we're well stocked. I'm thrilled to think that I'll experience raising both sons and a daughter and I'm waking up each morning feeling giddy and grateful, I can't wait to meet her. Mixed with my elation, my delirious joy, is the relief that I won't have to smile while shielding myself from a deluge of remarks like "Oh No! Now, you'll have to have a fourth!"'or "Oh well, maybe next time!". The past 20 weeks of waiting and wondering have taught me something, though. The next time I cross paths with a pregnant mom of 2, 3, 4 or more of the same gender kids, I'll congratulate her and note how great her kids are. And I'll leave it at that.
After surviving those first 12 weeks, I gleefully let people in on the secret. I happily shared my joy at the prospect of another sweet baby to care for, to laugh at, to wonder at. People are good, kind and well meaning but the responses of those around me were sometimes startling. I regularly heard "OH. MY. GOD. Another one?! You must be nuts!" This comment has a way of making me anxious and insecure, convincing me that the other person has info that I'm not privy to. I think "Oh shit. What does she know that I don't? Am I crazy to do this?! What if I'm only one kidlet away from complete and utter insanity and this person can see it?" I usually take a deep breath and think about the Duggars. I smirk at their neat, pleated, khakis and Mrs. Duggar's frumpy hair; then I feel better about having only 3 kids. Hey, if those space cadets can manage 19 kids, I can wrangle 3. I thank you, Duggar family-you are...umm...delightful.
If it's not an innocent joke about my mental stability, it's usually a comment about my baby's future genitals. Yes, I have 2 boys. Yes, I confess that I would love to have a daughter too but there's very little that I can do about that. I'm not able to place a direct order and track the shipping. I honestly believe that people don't mean to ruffle my feathers when they say "Ooooooh! I bet you're really hoping for a girl this time, eh?" or, worse, "Ooooooh! You'll probably be disappointed if you get another boy, eh?". But my feathers be ruffled, bitches. I can't help but feel that these comments make a judgement about what I already have-2 funny, sweet, clever, wonderful boys. Another one of those would have been very welcome, indeed. We make damn good boys. It seems that there's an assumption that a boy would be deemed lesser than a girl. Comments like these make me defensive about a person who may not even exist, and who doesn't need to be protected from hurt feelings. I find myself wanting to snap in my snarkiest tone, "Disappointed?! He'd be perfect! He'd be perfect for us and we don't want your crinkly-browed, sad eyed, pity faces!". Instead, I smile and say "Sure, a girl would be a bonus, but I've seen the boys we make and they're pretty cool." Our 20 week ultrasound revealed that we're having a girl after-all. I'm overjoyed, of course, but I won't believe it until I see that teeny vajayjay with my own eyes. I imagine that a girl will be a breath of fresh air around here, but I hope she gets a kick outta Hot Wheels cars because we're well stocked. I'm thrilled to think that I'll experience raising both sons and a daughter and I'm waking up each morning feeling giddy and grateful, I can't wait to meet her. Mixed with my elation, my delirious joy, is the relief that I won't have to smile while shielding myself from a deluge of remarks like "Oh No! Now, you'll have to have a fourth!"'or "Oh well, maybe next time!". The past 20 weeks of waiting and wondering have taught me something, though. The next time I cross paths with a pregnant mom of 2, 3, 4 or more of the same gender kids, I'll congratulate her and note how great her kids are. And I'll leave it at that.
My baby girl LOOOOOVES to play with her brother's hot wheels...more than he does!
ReplyDeleteI love that! I'm hoping this girl will love them too :)
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