Pink, Blue or Green?
When Joe and I first got married it wasn’t long before people started to ask if/when we would start a family together. We knew we wanted to have children but at twenty-five we felt like we weren’t ready to take on that big of a responsibility. We waited for five years before we decided to try. I loved all of the encouraging talks during that waiting period with friends, family, coworkers and even with complete strangers. Everything people told us about having children was so positive and heartwarming. I can even recall being told by the former CEO of the company I last worked for that becoming a parent would make my life, “one hundred times better”. His face lit up as he said this to me, followed by story after story about his daughter and two sons and I believed every word of it.
Once I actually became pregnant and decided to share the news with others the dialog changed a bit. Nine times out of ten the main thing people wanted to know was what we were “having”. It felt like that bit of information was needed for this new conversation. It wasn’t enough to say that you’re growing a human inside of your womb. The world was begging the question: what are you having?
I have seen countless YouTube videos of gender-reveal parties where soon-to-be moms and dads are jumping for joy when they slice open their cake in front of family and friends and find the all blue (or all pink) filling inside—and I also see videos where the soon-to-be parents pop open balloons in their backyards and pink (or blue) confetti comes out and one or both parents lose their shit because they didn’t “get” what they wanted. It’s dramatic and disheartening.
To be honest now that I am in the thick of parenthood, with eight years under my belt, I can tell all expectant parents that the gender of your child shouldn’t change anything. The issue I have with the question, “what are you having” is that once you get asked this perfectly innocent question it’s usually followed by a reaction that is solely based upon the experiences of the person who is asking it and it can leave you feeling even more excited about your baby or like complete crap.
Parents of boys will tell you that having a boy is the best. Parents of girls will tell you that having a girl is the best. Parents of both genders will have a more neutral response typically, but wait for baby #2, they will certainly have a stronger opinion about that baby’s gender, again based on what THEY have. The truth is, we all like whatever it is that we have (generally speaking here). The question of “what are you having” I believe comes from a good place, it’s a place of wanting to know and wanting to better relate and connect more with your baby. I get it, I was that expecting mother who HAD TO KNOW what I was having, both times around. But I can’t tell you how many times during BOTH of my pregnancies I was asked “what are you having” and then when I responded by saying “I’m having a boy” or “I am having another boy”, the smile on the person’s face would fade a bit and then they would be follow with an insincere, “oh that’s nice” or even better, “I hope you keep trying for a girl”. Seriously?! Comments like this make the expecting parent feel like their baby, who isn’t even out of their body yet, is already somehow a disappointment.
I remember driving to my 20-week ultrasound appointment. Joe was going to meet me there and we were going to finally find out what we were having. At the time we HAD to know what we were having—the question and answer WAS important to us back then. That being said, I knew that I was having a girl but wanted the ultrasound to confirm it once and for all. I longed for that baby girl—I wanted that mother-daughter relationship back in my life SO badly. I remember turning the radio on in my car that morning and the song “Best Day of my Life” by American Authors came on. It was a sign, I thought. This was going to be the best day of my life, I thought. I thanked my mom in heaven, knowing she would be with me at that appointment too and believing that she somehow pulled some strings with god and got me my girl. I would name her after my mom and I had big hopes for this special daughter of mine.
The ultrasound technician put the cold gel on my belly and started to search. I held Joe’s hand in mine and we looked for our girl on the screen…we were on the hunt for parts that resembled either a hotdog or a hamburger, I remember the technician saying. I prayed a silent prayer on the spot for that hamburger—she said those were even harder to detect but that she would do her best to spot it for us, as long as the baby cooperated. The baby must have been listening because just then it uncrossed its legs, wiggled around and then threw its little legs up into the air! And there it was—one big hotdog and two balls—clear as day. Joe was shocked, as was I. Joe is the youngest of four and is the only boy in his family and I have one sister and no brothers either…we both couldn’t believe our eyes. I put on a happy face and kissed Joe. “We are having a boy” he said to me with excitement in his voice. I nodded. I wanted to cry in that moment, but the tears wouldn’t come. I was in shock and disbelief. It took me a full week to get fully onboard with this new discovery. And to be honest, part of what helped me accept this reality, that I was having a boy, was the fact that I knew we would try for a second child in a couple of years and I had high hopes that that baby would be a girl. One boy and one girl, I thought—that does sound perfect.
Then two years went by and there was that hotdog and two balls again on the big projected ultrasound screen. It was Deja vu. We were expecting yet another boy and we were both shocked once again, but this time there were no feelings of disappointment at all. Quite the opposite- we felt elated! We both went into that ultrasound appointment with new eyes and a changed heart, thanks to Conner. As much as we wanted to know what we were having, we knew it didn’t really matter if it was a boy or a girl- we were going to love that baby like crazy.
Now eight years into being a “boy mom”, I know better. I see the little souls that they are. I see the amazing people they are becoming. And I also see myself in my boys. Maybe mothers of girls and fathers of boys don’t get this point of view, but in addition to seeing so much of Joe within Conner and Hudson, I too can’t help but notice that they are both so much like me as well.
I used to climb up on everything as a child and swing from the edges of tables like a monkey, so Hudson-like. I used to be very introspective and would write stories and poems for hours upon hours, so Conner-like. I now see how much of my personality and my interests parallel with my children’s. At their ages I too loved playing pretend. I too had a wild imagination. I too loved playing with Lego Sets and Lincoln Logs, Playdoh and stuffed animals, Calico Critters and board games. I too loved collecting stickers and rocks and bugs. I too loved singing and dancing around the house. I too loved playing on our swing set for hours. I too loved talking to friends on the phone. I too love being outside. I too spent hours upon hours swimming with friends, biking with friends, climbing trees with friends. I too loved coloring and painting and baking and getting my hands dirty. It’s all so familiar. It doesn’t NEED to be THAT different.
If there is one thing that really rattles my cages it’s every time I have been told, “oh you wouldn’t understand, because you have boys”. As if “girl moms” and “boy moms” are raising two different species. How would you would feel if your dad said to you, “oh, you can’t possibly understand what I’m talking about, because you’re a girl”. It’s insulting. Implying that women are incapable of relating to men and vice versa. Implying that boys and girls should be handled differently, taught differently, spoken to differently, raised differently, purely because of their gender and our expectations for them based on their gender. I don’t raise my sons to be any different from their daughters. That’s not the goal and it really shouldn’t be their goal either.
My sons have many things in common and they also have many differences, much like my sister and I. If I were to write down a description of each of my children and not say their gender perhaps some might read it and think that my older son is a girl because he can be described as “compassionate, artsy and creative” while my younger son can be described as “fearless, wild and active.” The thing is they are both ALL of these things, it just depends on the day and the situation. They both can be shy and they both can be super social, they both can be sensitive and they both can be insensitive, they both can be stubborn and they both can be agreeable, and they both can be calm and they both can be rowdy, they both can be rough and they both can be gentle and complete mush. They are many things. They are many contradictions. What matters the most is that they both have beautiful hearts and they are both loved beyond infinity—as we say.
I am not arguing that we- boys and girls, men and women, are all “the same”, I am arguing that we are not opposites. What makes us different has LITTLE to do with our physical differences of gender and more to do with our inner wirings, our genetics, our ancestry, our souls, our light, our energy and of course those who raise us. I am both my mother’s daughter and my father’s daughter. We are all a mix of BOTH.
Whenever someone tries to compare their daughters to my sons, describing their girls as being “so good” or “so easy”—pretty much implying that my sons are the opposite, “bad and difficult”, I tell them they clearly never met my niece. At age two, four, six, eight—she was “wilder” than either of my boys at these ages and her parents were great parents because they didn’t try to change her. They didn’t try to make her more calm or more “girly” –they embraced her wild. She is now 15 years old and is one of the coolest kids I know and one of the best soccer players on her team. She isn’t an amazing athlete because she is a “tom-boy” OR despite her being a girl, she’s an amazing athlete because she was raised with love and respect, by parents who saw her God-given abilities and took notice of her interests and honed in on them-- making her into the confident, strong young woman she is today.
Maybe if we stop focusing so much on gender and stereotyping and labeling, our children can really be seen for who they are, celebrated for who they are and loved for who they are. Maybe if we shift our focus onto the uniqueness of each individual child maybe we can raise stronger, more confident, better equipped adults. Maybe by raising our children in a more similar gender-neutral way they will feel less like opposites and more like equals. Last I checked an opposite was something with a completely different meaning—big/small, fast/slow, good/bad…. these are opposites, males and females are not.
Maybe we can learn to replace the question, “what are you having”, with a statement like— “your life is about to get 100 times better”. And maybe if you’re the one who is expecting and you get asked the dreaded question “what are you having” you can simply say, “a baby. I am so excited for this baby”. And if you are pregnant and you HAVE to know what you’re “having” because your nursery paint color depends on it—go with green. A nice soft sage green is always a good choice! Or, if you’re like my son Conner go with his favorite color blue or if you’re like my other son Hudson, go with his favorite color, pink! It’s all good.