When we were expecting our first baby, my husband and I both hoped it would be a boy. I had a lot more experience with caring for little boys, and the very few little girls I had known weren’t very pleasant. My husband wanted a boy because he felt a boy would be easier to relate to, play with, and understand.
We went to the ultrasound appointment very excited to find out the sex of the baby. Of course, the baby was positioned so the sex was unclear at first, but by the time the baby moved neither of us cared anymore about the sex. It was a girl, but neither of us was disappointed. She, of course, turned out to be an awesome kid. By the time her brothers were born, she had us well-trained. ;)
My husband’s family constantly asked us when we were going to have another baby so we could “try for a boy.” His grandfather, in particular, reminded us several times that it was up to us to have a boy to carry on the family name. Like that’s my biggest priority in life… We did have a boy, which was great because everyone got off our backs and because we would get to experience having a son as well as a daughter. However, my husband said, “We could having nothing but girls and I’d be perfectly happy.” I felt the same way.
We had one more baby, a boy again, and we’re done. Sometimes I have a brief moment of insanity when I think that having another baby wouldn’t be so bad if I knew it would be a girl. My daughter is turning 11 soon, and I miss her baby and toddler days.