I’m the middle son in a family with three boys and a girl. My sister is the youngest.
If I had a dollar for every time my mother told us, “If your sister had been born first, we wouldn’t have had you boys at all. She was more trouble than all of you boys combined,” I could have retired five years earlier.
I think I’d probably be the least terrified with a girl. But that’s only because I have experience being a girl and know the basic things to expect. I think I can handle a talk about, say, menstruation with a girl. I don’t even know how I would begin a talk about erections and wet dreams with a boy. I know I could read up about it or ask someone for advice. But that would be a complication I’d rather not have to deal with.
This of course assumes I’m raising this kid all by myself. If I had a husband, it wouldn’t be so terrifying and I’d probably be open to any gender.
I had my first two kids in the last just under four years. With the first one, I wanted a daughter. I got a daughter. With the second one, I had a slight preference to another daughter. I got another daughter. If we ever have a third one, I may lean son, but I’d be perfectly happy with yet another daughter.
My preference is mostly because I grew up with a brother. I love him; he’s great, we’ve always gotten along, but I just kind of like girls, I guess.
That said, I am hesitant about the teenaged years. As a guy, I feel I can navigate that minefield much better with a son than a daughter. We shall see in about ten years.
If I was just going to have one I’d want a boy. In fact if I was going to have four, I’d want four boys. Which is just what I got.
This is not to say I would have been disappointed about having a girl. I would have taken whatever. I’m just relieved I never had to sit down with my kid and outline all the dire things about being a woman. And know that my daughters were going to have to experience all the dire things about being a woman.