When I was pregnant with both Hooper and Van, it would have been torture to wait the entire 10 months to know their genders. I had intentions of trying to wait with Van but Willy really wanted to know and not knowing weighed on me so heavily that it felt more like I was depriving myself of something I needed as opposed to waiting for something I wanted.

This pregnancy I feel entirely different. I actually have “the envelope” with the gender written somewhere inside it and I’ve had zero motivation to even touch it. Can’t decide if it’s because I truly don’t care (which I don’t) or because I’ll take whatever extra motivation to push that I can… because the good Lord knows I need help getting dem’ big babies out.

I recently wrote a post about the realities of announcing a third pregnancy and the thing is, when you’re the pregnant mama of two boys, nearly everyone assumes that you’re pregnancy is a direct result of trying for a girl. If I had a penny for every time I said, “actually, I truly don’t care what the gender is”, I’d be able to buy fancier maternity clothes (like the stuff from Hatch that I’ve been drooling over but could never pull the trigger on buying). I digress.

It seems to be our society’s perfect picture of a family: two parents, a boy, a girl, and – of course – a dog (because ain’t that the American way?).

People tell me I need a girl. And yet, I don’t feel the same way. It’s like gender has become similar to the coveted birth plan as it’s no longer about a healthy baby but instead about the desired sex coming out exactly as the pre-written birth plan dictates, with dim lights and Coldplay playing in the background.

Someone asked me the other day, “but how are you preparing for the baby if you don’t know it’s gender”… which truthfully made me laugh. I don’t believe she was a mother and perhaps after two kids of her own she’ll realize that there isn’t nearly as much in the preparation sense that ought to be done for a third than there is with a first… and truthfully, there ain’t nearly as much for a even a first and if it weren’t such a money making market, you would see less of all the graphics depicting all the perfect baby gear and gadgets. I let go of the diaper bag after Hooper, if that gives you any indication. I digress, once again.

Let me be clear and honest. I really and truly don’t care about this baby’s gender. So-much-so that that little envelope remains sealed and tucked away. It has no bearing on my curiosity because that little piece of paper says nothing about the health or the circumstances of which it will come into this world and that, really and truly, is all I care about.

With that all said, I’m expecting another boy. I’ve always felt, even before becoming a mother, that I would inevitably be a mother to all boys. And if I do have a girl, can’t say I’d raise her any differently. So society, take your “perfect picture” and shove it.

I would end this post with asking if you too felt the general let down of announcing another pregnancy with the same sex as you already have, but I know the answer to this question already… And having grown up with a sister, I’d argue further that having the same gender sibling is a pretty special relationship. And I’d be willing to go even further and ask, what’s gender anyway? Hashtag: Bruce becomes Caitlyn. Hashtag: More power to him, errr, her.