‘Great news that the Beckhams are expecting their fourth child! Hope they get a pink one!” tweeted TV presenter and mother of one daughter, Amanda Holden.
I bristled. Holden was, of course, referring to David and Victoria Beckham’s brood of three sons and their desire for a daughter. The celebrity Katie Price also made no secret of her quest for a girl “to dress up” and TV chef Jamie Oliver spoke of his delight, in September, at finally having a son after three daughters.
Throughout all these high-profile pregnancies, I’ve seen giddy speculation in the celebrity press, even in the news, over whether the imminent offspring would complete the showbiz dynasty with the alternate genitalia. As much as these reports are in light-hearted fun, to me, a mother of two sons, they are a maddening reminder of the perceived importance of having at least “one of each”.
While I can’t relate to any parent who feels they desperately need one gender over the other, no one can legislate on how other people build their families (though in the Beckhams’ case, one can’t help but suspect the primary appeal of a little girl is as an heiress to 300 size-six couture frocks and matching Louboutins).
But what does fill me with rage is how so many people impose on expectant and new parents their belief that a “complete” family contains both boys and girls, often in the most rude and hurtful way.
When one close friend of mine, a proud mother of two daughters, became pregnant again, she endured daily comments from near strangers, letting her know they were rooting for her to “finally” bear a son, as though the alternative would constitute a fate worse than death.
‘Have another go’
Another friend recently (and happily) gave birth to her third son and couldn’t leave the house with her perfect, healthy new baby without some kindly soul tilting their head in sympathy and letting her know she could always “have another go”.
When I gave birth to my second son, several people, including some relatives, cheerily wished me “better luck next time”. They seemed surprised I had no desire to roll the dice again and that my much wanted youngest hadn’t simply been a failed attempt to achieve parental nirvana.
These sorts of comments are common (someone on Twitter told me that even her ultrasound technician had apologised for discovering she was having yet another girl) and can be very upsetting to the parents.
One can only imagine how the same attitudes make those who can’t have any children feel. As I watched a TV documentary last year about a couple who were so desperate for a girl they had had eight sons in the process of trying, all I could think about was how couples struggling with infertility or miscarriage, and desperately wishing for just one healthy baby would be able to stop themselves from attacking the telly with a claw hammer.
As extreme as the documentary seemed, the wide assumption does seem to be that it’s perfectly reasonable to keep breeding until both the X and Y boxes have been ticked, even if it results in a handful of children you weren’t really hoping for. An extra few years of sleepless nights? Six university educations to pay for?
A real family
Children with a sense of inadequacy? Never mind, the main thing is that you finally got to buy the pink tutu from BabyGap. You pray the other children never learn they were second prize in the raffle.
The other remarkable thing about the belief that only a co-ed family is a real family is the implication that two or more children of the same gender are, by definition, the same people. That the only way to experience a variety of personalities, characters and interests is to be parent to both a son and a daughter.
Both my children are boys — blond, blue-eyed and close in age (three and five). But for the most part, that’s where the similarity ends. Marvin is sensitive, resistant to change, dreamy and eager to please. Arthur is extremely confident, loud, funny and tactile.
They are united only by a love of Lego and a hatred of ham. One of my four brothers (I am the only girl) has more in common with me than with the other three boys. It’s absurd to think gender so completely defines children’s characters. No two brothers, or sisters, are alike.
I remember watching a Big Brother final in 2006 and seeing an evicted contestant take to the stage, touch the belly of a heavily pregnant Davina McCall, the presenter, and sincerely wish her a boy after two daughters.
The relentlessly upbeat McCall’s face momentarily cracked and she went off-script to tell him firmly that she would be just as delighted to have a third daughter. In that moment of irritation she spoke for single-sex mums and dads everywhere (in the end she had a son).
Yes, it’s fun to wonder what ludicrous costumes Katie Price would dress a girl in, or whether Posh will end up with a daughter who’s a physicist and looks like the back-end of a bus, but all those crossed fingers aren’t helping the rest of us who are sick to the back teeth of suggestions that our families are somehow hormone imbalanced.
We’re lucky to have the children we have and even luckier if they’re born healthy and with everything in working order. Parents who achieve this have truly hit the jackpot. And we should be allowed to celebrate. — Guardian News & Media 2011