My sisters and I turned out OK, but what
if I screw it up?!

I am one of three girls. I love being a girl. Always have. My parents never treated us any differently because of our gender, especially my dad who had us baiting fish hooks, shooting guns and playing baseball in the backyard practically before we were out of diapers. The thought never crossed our minds that we couldn't do everything boys could do and as we’ve gotten older, we are all still confident, strong and happy with who we are. Needless to say, my parents did a good job. But that was a different time. Raising a daughter today seems…trickier. And it has me worried. Here’s why:

When Nick and I were shopping for Alex’s birthday present, we stopped by the clothing department so I could pick out an outfit for my friend who just had a baby girl (the present is en route, Amanda!). As I was perusing the pink onesies and frilly dresses, Nick said, “I just don’t see what all the hype is with girl clothes.”

I spun around. “OMG, I know!!!” I said. “I think I must be missing some kind of gene because I don’t see myself going gaga for this stuff…ever.” And I mean it.

As you know, this Thursday Nick and I find out the sex of our baby-to-be. I know I’m supposed to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway: I don’t care what it is. I really don’t. Sure, I can see why some people in my situation -- already having one boy -- would want to have a girl, but I just want to have a baby. A healthy baby. After surviving cancer, frankly I’m lucky to have any children at all.

But everyone I talk to about the big reveal -- and I mean, everyone -- says, “I hope it’s a girl!” “Fingers crossed for a girl!” “Let’s pray for a girl!” So now I feel like I should want a girl. “One of each!” they say, “it will be perfect!” Hmmm. Sure, I would love to have a girl -- I’m one of three daughters in my family so of course I think girls rock -- but I would also love to have another boy. I’ve always been a fan of same-sex siblings (perhaps because I never had a brother…).

Of course I would love a daughter...I'm one of three girls! (Here I am
with my sisters.)

As I mentioned last week, I am planning to find out what I’m having (my appointment is on Thursday, as a matter of fact!). I also found out with Alex. To me, it was never really a question. It wasn’t that I needed to know so I could set up the nursery -- I was living in an NYC apartment at the time so his “nursery” consisted of a corner in my bedroom. And it’s not that I have an aversion to the color yellow or that I wanted to name the kid before he came out (Alex became Alex six hours after he was born…he was going to be Christopher or Timothy up to that point). I just wanted to know. Not in an obsessive way, just in the way I wanted to know that he had 10 fingers and 10 toes and was growing properly.

GIRL!!!!! We're thrilled! Woohoo! But honestly, I'd prepared myself so much for the possibility of a boy (and I was getting really happy about the idea of a boy too), that I didn't believe the technician at first. In fact, she ended up checking twice because I needed more convincing.

Well, actually, the technician FORGOT to check the gender originally — even though we told her the moment she began the sonogram that we wanted to find out the sex. But clearly, this wasn't nearly as big a deal to her as it was to us.