The Pressure for a Son
When I became pregnant for the fourth time, Patricia decided the baby was a boy before I was even showing. She started calling the baby “the heir.” She sent Derek articles about how to conceive a son.
She spoke about my body as if it were broken.
At dinner one night, Derek joked, “Fourth time’s the charm. Don’t mess this one up.”
I finally said, “They’re our children. Not experiments.”
He rolled his eyes. “Relax. You’re too emotional.”
Later, I asked him quietly, “What if this one is a girl?”
He smirked. “Then we’ve got a problem.”
From then on, Patricia didn’t even hide her words in front of my daughters.
“Girls are sweet,” she would say loudly. “But boys carry the name.”
One night, my oldest whispered, “Mom, is Daddy mad we’re not boys?”
That question broke me more than anything else.
Leave a Comment