When our friends or our family members or our servers at Applebee’s find out we’re pregnant, the most common response is “So … do you want to find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Yes. Yes, we do.”
But you and I both know that’s not the last of the questions.
“So … which one do you want?”
That answer—not so simple.
I’m the oldest of three boys. My loving mother has said that she really wanted a girl. Just one. (Sorry, Mom.) I have always held that I would provide my mom with all the girls she could dream of.
At a Coyotes hockey game a couple months ago, I saw a girl a few rows in front, maybe 18 to 24 months old, bedecked in a Boston Bruins hockey warm-up and jersey. I melted. I thought, I want to have a girl so I can totally put her in hockey gear!
Then there’s the father-daughter bond. That can’t be discounted. It’s a lot of responsibility to be a strong, stable role model in a girl’s life as she grows up. I know that. I believe I will be ready.
Does this mean I want a girl? Not so fast.
As I said, I’m the oldest of three boys. All I know are boys. Grubbing-in-the-dirt boys. Needing-stitches-every-other-weekend boys. What I’m trying to get at is that I’d very much be in my element with a boy.
Our pastor spoke recently on the Book of Matthew, which spends half of the first chapter recounting the lineage of Jesus. Without getting too biblical, Matthew lists 40 fathers who had boys who became men who had boys who became men who had boys, the last of which was Jesus. I don’t know why this particular religious lesson touched me, because the desire to have a boy isn’t necessarily religious. But it accessed a part of me that hadn’t been accessed before, the ingrained inclination to pass down my name. I know, I know—if I have a daughter, she would always be a Morgan, too. I’m painting in broad strokes here.
Then there is the fact that I want to put a baseball and a glove into the crib of my baby boy and raise him to become what I wasn’t: a professional baseball player. Ah, I jest. Or do I?
All this wondering ends Thursday, when my wife has her appointment with the ultrasound technician. We finally get to find out if our little IT is a girl or a boy.