When I was eight months pregnant and out for dinner with a friend, the waitress asked me the gender of my unborn baby. “A boy!” I said, and she groaned as she handed me my pizza. “More boys,” she sighed. “So many boys, everywhere.” I was taken aback, and had the urge to apologise. Then I felt intensely annoyed.

Throughout my pregnancy, I’d had comments like this. “Ah a boy, well you can try for a girl next!”, “Well, at least you’ll have a nice boy”, and “You’re going to have your hands full with a boy!” Then there was: “Sons, they love their mothers while small, but then they stop coming round.” Cheers for the encouragement!

While I was concerned only with having a healthy baby and couldn’t have cared less about the gender, the world seemed to be telling me that in conceiving a boy, I’

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