As happy as I am to be surprised on the day that they're born, there is a part of me that wishes I knew. Although I love and appreciate all of the clothes we've gotten from friends and family, I'm getting eager to buy things that are a bit more gender specific. There are only so many gender neutral things available at BRU, (which seems to be the only place people shop for showers) so we have so many duplicate items. The colors that have been deemed "neutral" are a bit boring after a while too. No bold greens or oranges, just a sea of orange and lime sherbet colored onesies. Lately when we've stopped at any store that sells baby items, we've been drawn to the clothing - particularly the really gender specific items, like impossibly tiny ladybug sundresses and cupcake onesies, or bulldog and dinosaur outfits. I have to admit, some of them are quite cute. But I can't bring myself to buy them without knowing who's in there.
Let me say that I have absolutely no preference of one sex over the other when it comes to these babies. I know that there are many families (same-sex and hetero, nobody on my blog roll of course) who view girls as the top prize, and baby boys as a distant second. It breaks my heart to see some people who are truly disappointed when they come back from their anatomy scan and must report that they are carrying a baby boy. I've always felt a bit defensive when it comes to baby boys. I think it comes from hearing stories about my crazy grandmother. My grandmother had three daughters, and no sons. She was thrilled when I was born, but when her second grandchild, my brother, was born a year later she refused to hold him for the first three months of his life simply because he was a boy. When my aunt, who had struggled with infertility for years was finally approved for adoption, my grandmother asked "what are you going to do if it's a boy?" And when I approached her, overflowing with joy to tell her that she was soon going to be a great-grandmother to twins, the first words out of her mouth were "I suppose they're both boys?" My jaw hit the floor. I was 12 weeks along at that point and had done my best to remain as detached as possible from these babies, mostly as a defense mechanism because I was so afraid of losing them. But in that moment, I suddenly felt so connected to my babies and protective of them. I had to convey to her that there was no way I would love a son any less than I would love a daughter. Even if I'm not quite sure how to teach him to pee standing up.