I Wish I Could…
Not too long ago, I was deliberating whether I should tell people the sex of the baby in my womb. I mean I get queries from STRANGERS – people who mean nothing to me, to put it crudely – and all of these strangers are women, asking me whether it’s a boy or a girl this time around. Their replies, either out of insensitivity or ignorance, make their remarks seem offensive.
“It’s a girl,” I usually reply with a smile. A smile because I forget what may come after.
And these are what I get:
“Never mind, the next one will be a boy.”
“It’ll be good if it were a boy.”
“It Must Be a boy this time!”
I Wish I Could reply with a sweet demeanor, like Zoe’s godma, “Why do you say that?” and engage them in a dialogue. To educate, to let them know that to me a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter. I’ll love the kid all the same. After all, the most positive way of looking at it is that they were trying to be friendly and it was only a slip of tongue.
I’ve learnt for a long time that people say things because of what they think and from their values system. It’s all about projecting our images on the other person. For an example from the comment, “Never Mind if it’s a girl,” we could infer that the bearer meant pity. However, my reaction - hostile or pleasant - shows that I am bothered by this comment. Why am I so uptight when I get this type of comments?
To this day, I reacted my best with my grandmother when she asked me this question while I was pregnant with Zoe. She was about ninety-seven years old then. I was told that my grandmother did not visit us at my birth. It was only when my brother was born, three years later that she visited us. Through the years, it was obvious which sex she clearly preferred.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” my grandmother had asked.
“What do you prefer? A boy or a girl?” I teased her, for I thought I knew what her preference was.
“It doesn’t matter these days whether it’s a boy or a girl,” was her reply.
My, that really came as a pleasant surprise! But it took almost a century for an old lady from Swatou China to change her mind about some deep-seated values.
I Still Wish, I Could, be nice about it. When people ask or give an opinion, it’s not about me. I lose the chance to give my perspectives when my body language shows: I am offended, Don’t talk to me. At worse, they think they are right. But for now, I can only bark. Uurrgghh woof! jeanne anne hsi
“It’s a girl,” I usually reply with a smile. A smile because I forget what may come after.
And these are what I get:
“Never mind, the next one will be a boy.”
“It’ll be good if it were a boy.”
“It Must Be a boy this time!”
I Wish I Could reply with a sweet demeanor, like Zoe’s godma, “Why do you say that?” and engage them in a dialogue. To educate, to let them know that to me a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter. I’ll love the kid all the same. After all, the most positive way of looking at it is that they were trying to be friendly and it was only a slip of tongue.
I’ve learnt for a long time that people say things because of what they think and from their values system. It’s all about projecting our images on the other person. For an example from the comment, “Never Mind if it’s a girl,” we could infer that the bearer meant pity. However, my reaction - hostile or pleasant - shows that I am bothered by this comment. Why am I so uptight when I get this type of comments?
To this day, I reacted my best with my grandmother when she asked me this question while I was pregnant with Zoe. She was about ninety-seven years old then. I was told that my grandmother did not visit us at my birth. It was only when my brother was born, three years later that she visited us. Through the years, it was obvious which sex she clearly preferred.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” my grandmother had asked.
“What do you prefer? A boy or a girl?” I teased her, for I thought I knew what her preference was.
“It doesn’t matter these days whether it’s a boy or a girl,” was her reply.
My, that really came as a pleasant surprise! But it took almost a century for an old lady from Swatou China to change her mind about some deep-seated values.
I Still Wish, I Could, be nice about it. When people ask or give an opinion, it’s not about me. I lose the chance to give my perspectives when my body language shows: I am offended, Don’t talk to me. At worse, they think they are right. But for now, I can only bark. Uurrgghh woof! jeanne anne hsi
posted by jeanne anne hsi at 5:42 AM
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