Worried Pink

I’m a little freaked out about having a daughter.

Before Friday, when pressed about the baby, I said I was sort of hoping for a boy, but I thought it might be a girl. Then I would quickly add the disclaimer “but it doesn’t matter.”

I was “hoping” for a boy because it meant we wouldn’t have to move out of our two-bedroom condo. Lumpyhead and Akutaq can share a room for the next several years of course, but eventually we will have to move. I’m adjusting to the idea that our current place will not be where we spend the rest of our lives. I can’t say I’m all broken up about that – it’s not my dream house or anything – but it’s daunting.

Since Lumpyhead and Akutaq will be so close in age, we hope they will be friends. I was playing the odds that two brothers had a better chance of being close than a brother and sister. Obviously brothers, no matter how close in age they may be, are not guaranteed to be great friends; and some brothers and sisters are inseparable.

So really, it doesn’t matter. I was just looking for a way to answer a throw-away question. But I am worried.

I worry about posting this. Will it be misinterpreted, someday, as “I wish you had been a boy"?

Boys are easier. Boys are cheaper. Boys don’t get pregnant in high school.

Then there are the worries about expectations. I’m not expected to play catch with my son or teach him to parallel park or chat with him about the designated hitter. (His father and I will do these things, but they’re not traditionally expected of me.) I’m expected to teach my daughter about makeup and proper accessories and ladylike behavior. (These are not my strong suits. I can teach her to burp, which one assumes she’ll come out of the womb knowing how to do.)

I’m looking for the upside of being a mother to a girl. As far as I can see, there’s more pressure and more expectations and rife emotional issues.

My mother always told me that my grandmother was her best friend; I know she is disappointed that we don’t have the same kind of relationship. I don’t expect to be Akutaq’s best friend or confidant. It will be great if that’s how things turn out, but I expect she will think I’m lame and clueless and will resent the things I do. I will embarrass her and inadvertently disappoint her. I will annoy the shit out of her. (So will her dad, but he’ll always be Daddy and it won’t matter. The eyerolls and grating tsk-cluck sound will be directed at me.)

I never worried about these kinds of things – and still don’t – with Lumpyhead. Why is it different?

I can dismiss the worry about traditional expectations pretty easily. We’ve given tradition the finger and are creating our own definitions in our house anyway, so who cares if she learns about makeup from me or Amalah’s Smackdown or her friends or my gay cousin? (She’ll need one or more of those resources, because all she’s getting from me about makeup is “You’re beautiful without it. The end.” Not so helpful when you’re in junior high and it’s crucial you figure out that eyelash curler.)

She’ll learn the important stuff from me, though, like self-esteem and respect for others and intellectual curiosity. She’ll learn that her looks are secondary and her body not an object. It will never occur to her that women can be limited in their career or life choices.

And she’ll be able to rattle the rafters (of our eventual new house) with a burp.

I hope.