Just the Socks

I’m a little sad about the socks. They are miniature white cotton ones, with pale-green scalloped trim and a tiny pink flamingo on each ankle. I bought them last year at a fancy kids’ boutique when I was shopping for a gift. I’m not unusually one to buy things for a future, unborn baby, but these socks were so cute I couldn’t help it. I suppose they’re proof that part of me was hoping I might one day have a baby girl. But no. I know now that I won’t.

We found out recently that Baby #2 is another little boy, and two kids are it for us. We’re done after this one. I have to say, going into the sonogram I didn’t have a strong desire one way or the other. At least I didn’t think I did. If anything, I thought I wanted what I already had, the only thing I knew—an adorable, energetic, perfect baby boy. What would I do with a girl? I don’t even like pink.

Other people, however, made their desires known. “Oh, I hope you have a girl,” said one of our sitters. “I’m going to pray that this baby’s a girl.” Even my mom, who usually withholds her opinion unless asked, expressed a wish for us to have a daughter. Of course, that’s what she had, a boy and a girl. In fact, that seems to be the image for the perfect family in our society—mom, dad, son, daughter. One of my friends, a mom of two boys, got so sick of having people say, “Are you trying for a girl?” and when she became pregnant again, “Maybe this time you’ll get your girl!” As if another boy would be second-rate, ho-hum, a letdown.

Part of me just assumed we would have a girl this time. Almost everyone I know with two kids has a boy and a girl. You have a 50/50 chance, why wouldn’t it be a girl this time? Plus, my pregnancy has been different this time around. More morning sickness, fewer cravings for salty and sour foods. If I had to guess, I would’ve guessed girl.

We weren’t even sure we wanted to find out. We didn’t last time; we didn’t care. But when Miles started going around telling people he was getting “a new baby brother,” we thought we’d better manage his expectations. Plus, I wanted to know for all those boring practical reasons – would we need new crib bedding and clothing? Should we save Miles’ outgrown stuff or give it away? Should we repaint the nursery?

So it was kind of a shock to me when the lab technician said, “There’s your boy,” pointing to what she claimed was the undeniable proof. (It looked like a blurry little nub, if you ask me.) For a few moments—OK a few days—I actually felt a little disappointed. And then I got over it.

My husband, one of 5 kids, grew up with a younger brother close in age. It was great, he said, like having a built-in best friend. Most of my girlfriends who have sisters are closer to their siblings than those who have brothers. And my friends who do have two boys rave about them. They play together, look out for one another, and you can put the younger one in all those cute clothes the older one outgrew so fast!

Yes, I may be the odd girl out in our house, but I was never really a girly-girl anyway. I’m kind of relieved to avoid the whole princess obsession and the house full of pink sparkly stuff, to be honest. As my SIL pointed out, it may be somewhat easier to find cute girls’ clothes, but you still have to wade through all the inappropriate, mini Jon-Benet Ramsey outfits to find them. And trust C. to look on the bright side: “At least we won’t have to pay for a wedding!”

I’m hoping this next little boy shares all of his older brother’s best features, with maybe a tad less, uh, energy and speed. Maybe he’ll like to sit quietly and read, or listen to music and do craft projects. Whatever he’s like, he’s sure to have his own, distinct personality. I can’t wait to get to know him.

In the meantime, those socks will make a good gift for the next newborn girl. Or maybe I’ll just hang onto them a little longer.

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: My friend S., a busy mom of 3, said something the other day that made me laugh: “I’m grasping for the energy to give a crap.”