Not all of us are conceived in the hope of a boy. But I was. Most certainly I was.
I felt it as I came into her room. The hushed sense of disappointment. I hear it now too, but in whispers. Makes me feel a little unwanted, and even after 19 years of my life. I’m not complaining, though. It’s just how things are, I have grown up to realise. When the first born is hoped to be a boy, and at least the second, the third girl is thrice removed from all things welcome – a reality we live in. I live in. Perhaps you too?
I love her. My mother.
I sit and try to imagine.
I try to imagine the expression on my mother’s face when the nurse must have announced to her – It’s a girl. Or maybe – It’s another girl. ‘Another’ becomes ‘just another’ after a row of 2 others. They say so, but I hope it’s not true.
My mother. Was she disappointed? ...
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