Gender Reveals in a Culture of Gender Preference

Did a simple setup for cutting the cake.












For as long as I can remember I have been having a dream of myself playing in a park. In the dream there is a man and little girl and I can’t see their faces. The man has hair like Feraz’s. The balckest black, shiny and straight. So does the little girl.

After I got married, the dream came less frequently and by the time we were trying to have a baby, it went away all together. And still, somehow with the stubbornness of a child, I felt there was a promise made in those dreams. As we struggled with infertility and it seemed that the likelihood of having a biological child diminished, there was something in the back of my heart that always hoped that this little girl from my dreams would make her way into our lives.
The day we found out we were pregnant was not ours alone. Both our families knew we would be getting the call from the doctor. I was in the large corner conference room when I got the call. I tried to gauge the tone in the Nurse’s “Hello.” Something I had done so many times before only to be disappointed moments later. But not this time. My numbers looked good. I was pregnant. I wrote my hcg levels on a small sticky pad. Every other day for the next week, I would receive a call with updated numbers. I wrote each progress report down on another little sticky note. I put them all in my purse. I compared them with other women’s numbers on the internet. Did people miscarry after having such high numbers? Could there be twins? I had thought that after the positive pregnancy test, I would be able to relax but I kept hearing stories of early losses. That I shouldn’t celebrate until I hit that coveted three month mark.
But even at three months, I couldn’t celebrate. One women told me about her 20 week scan where they learned the baby’s brain was not developing. She had to terminate the pregnancy. So I decided to wait to celebrate. To bond with my baby. To protect myself from that profound feeling of loss. For the meantime the baby would just be an idea like it had been for so many years.
The weekend before the 20 week scan, I felt my nerves building. By the morning of the scan I had my full armor on. As the technician moved from one organ to the next I was too scared to ask if everything was OK. Some time in, I finally managed, “It has a brain right?” She professionally replied that it did.
Watching the image on the ultrasound, it was difficult to reconcile that the picture on the screen was happening inside of me. I looked at the screen and then my belly and still could not comprehend that this little life was inside of me. Eventually the doctor walked in and gave us the all clear. The baby looked good. Did we want to find out the sex? Yes! Yes! To the baby being healthy. Yes! To finding out the sex.
Because we had to share the first happy news on the phone, I wanted to tell the sex of the baby in person. We would be going to Michigan to celebrate Eid and I thought it would be a great opportunity to share the news.  But knowing that it was a girl made me falter. I knew our families were both ecstatic that we were having a baby after wanting it for so long but gender preference is deeply rooted in many cultures throughout the world.
In parts of the world, girls are still buried at birth, girls ‘disappear’ by the millionsGirls are exploited, girls are valued as less, girls are not safe, girls will face a lifetime of obstacles and even in success, girls will be made to question how and why they attained it.
So, why did I want a girl so badly? Why would I want to celebrate a girl?
Because I was a girl once and I am a woman now. I want to have a chance to guide a daughter, to raise her to be strong, and to be a leader in a world that needs strong women among those at the helm. I love being me. I value being me and for me, personally, a part of this celebration of my person is a celebration of the sex I am. These feelings of self-worth and self-love were the result of hard fought battles for me and I want the chance to pass these lessons on. 
And with these thoughts, I decided to go ahead with the gender reveal party. I trusted that both our families would be ecstatic to celebrate our daughter.

I almost started crying when I cut the cake. Even though I knew what we were having, it felt real and I felt for the first time I was really letting my guard down and allowing myself to celebrate this growing life. We had a great time with the reveal. There was a lot of laughing, happiness and love in that room and that is all I could ever want for any child of mine.

These guys thought I was having a boy.

The girl team.
I was overly excited to cut the cake!

sumeera

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