GENDER DISAPPOINTMENT

I have huge respect for Ellie AKA @when.harry.met.finn.and.pops for writing this list. We are taught that we must not show gender preference when it comes to having babies. But you can’t help the way you feel..

For example, I always pictured having a daughter first. I don’t think it was rooted in gender bias, more that I am the oldest of my siblings and I just assumed that history would repeat itself. So there was a pang of ‘oh right, thats not what I expected’ at our first scan when we found out we were having a boy.  That surprise quickly turned to joy, but for some the change in mindset isn’t as quick.

Here’s Ellie’s very honest account of experiencing gender disappointment:

---

• It’s the elephant in the scan room.

• You’re there for an anomaly scan, and whilst (obviously) the most important thing is the health of your baby all you can think about is what gender they are.

• Girl or Boy. Pink or Blue.

• The sonographer spends an actual lifetime looking at the screen, checking measurements, typing into their computer.

• You’re trying to look for the famous ‘potty shot’ (you pretty much class yourself as an expert because you’ve looked at approximately 79,386 of them online)

• It’s a boy.

• ‘Wow, that’s so exciting, a little brother for H’ – you don’t even sound convincing to yourself

• You leave, get in the car, it’s all a bit quiet.

• Neither of you really want to say anything. But it’s there, the undercurrent of disappointment, after all, you were only having two, a boy and a girl would have been nice. The pigeon pair.

• You we’re going to go shopping to buy the baby something after, there’s no need now as he’ll just live in H’s hand-me-downs.

• You check your phone, ‘any news???’ ‘Well…. Was I right?? Is it a girl’ ‘The suspense is killing me!’.

• How to reply to these without sounding like an arsehole? You go with ‘H is going to have a little BROTHER! We’re so pleased’ (insert cheesy grin/heart eyes emoji here).

• You go home, get on with your day but its there. You know he’s a little boy now, and that’s fine, you were expecting it, you’re never ‘that lucky’ but it hurts.

• You hate yourself for feeling this way, for wishing the little person inside you was somebody else, but it’s there nonetheless.

• Whats wrong with you.. Boys are lovely. You know this, you adore his older brother, just like you’ll adore him.

• Whats this feeling in the pit of your stomach? Does it go away,  or will it always be there now? That longing pang.

• Gender disappointment is seriously isolating.

• You feel like the most awful person on the planet, you feel like you don’t have the right to feel this way, you haven’t had to undergo rounds of grueling fertility treatments, you haven’t experienced the heart break of baby loss.

• You can’t tell anybody because you’re greeted with ‘two boys is lovely, I wish I had two of the same’ or ‘there are people who can’t have kids at all, you should count yourself lucky’ – Yep… thanks. Like I didn’t already feel like a massive dick.

• You find yourself seeking validation on the internet, scanning forums of specific gender disappointment websites, looking for a ‘cure’

• You google ‘how to bond with my unborn baby’ – in your mind that makes you a completely shit mum, who doesn’t feel connected to their growing baby? They’re literally a part of you.

• What if this turns into post natal depression, what if you go all crazy and set fire to a car like Ashley Peacocks wife off corrie.

• Weeks pass, it gets easier.

• You pick a name, ‘he’ becomes Finley, you buy him some new bits of clothing, you get the moses basket out the loft. He’s a lot more active now, you can feel him kick, you know his pattern, you know he gets hiccups every evening.

• You’re starting to get quite excited about meeting him, your 34 weeks now, not long to go.

• Then your friend announces she’s having a little girl. It’s like a kick to the gut. Guess you weren’t so over it after all.

• You see, what you feel like screaming at (the very few) people you’ve told your true feelings too, it’s not just the fact that babys gender is X or Y, if you’ve yearned for a daughter your entire life, if you know this is your last pregnancy, it’s like a form of grief.

• You grieve for the daughter you’ll never have.

• You grieve for the wedding you’ll never plan (seriously, who lets their mother in law get all involved?)

• You grieve for the dresses you’ll never buy, the hair you’ll never plait.

• You grieve for the best friend (genetically programmed to love your flaws) that you’ll never have, the cocktails and spa days that won’t ever happen.

• You feel bitter. You’ve started to avoid baby groups, its becoming annoying every time somebody asks ‘do you know what you’re having’.

• 38 weeks. Its showtime. You’ve got pre-eclampsia and he needs to evacuate sharpish, no time for induction.

• They’re taking you down to theatre and all you care about now is getting him here safely and holding him tight.

• You hear his cry, your endorphins are racing, your riding that hormonal high and he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and suddenly you can’t imagine him being anyone other than himself.

• You go home, it gets easier. You’re relishing your role as a mum to two, finding solidarity with other ♯mumofboys

• Time passes, it’s a lot easier, you love your rabble tribe more than life itself, but its still there. There’s still somebody missing.

This list was written as a blow by blow account of how I felt whilst going through gender disappointment. If you feel like you’re experiencing this, go easy on yourself, there’s light at the end of the tunnel and it definitely doesn’t make you a horrible neglectful mother. Don’t bury your feelings and talk, talk to whoever will listen.

---

Since writing this Ellie has gone on to have her much longed for daughter Poppy.