Are you a girl,
or are you a boy?
You ask this question
that now somehow holds so much
weight.
It’s normally so simple.
The world was this or that,
it was defined by very clear 
binaries
and you never imagined your 
life
would be navigating 
or trying to define the 
in between.
Did we choose the right 
one?
Because it’s a 50/50 shot.
Normally they hand you a baby
and they shout out
it’s a boy
or
it’s a girl
and you don’t ever have to think about 
what it would be like to have to 
pick the gender
for your child 
and shout out the answer
with confidence.
But you did it 
because you had to. 
You hope they think they misremembered
when you now say 
“she”
because you brought home a 
“he”.
You hope they misremember 
because it’s not their business
but people are
curious.
It’s their
nature.
You know they’d want to know
and you’ll have to explain
about chromosomes
and hormones
and the complexities of the
human body
that you’re not even sure you comprehend
yourself. 
You have no pretty diagnosis
to tie it up into a bow with
because even the doctors are upfront
about how 
they don’t know.
They have no answers 
to give you
about who your child
will grow into.
And you worry 
so
much
about when your child is old enough
to have questions
and starts to realize they’re 
different,
that they will feel
their body has betrayed them,
no matter how much you tell them
they are 
beautiful
and 
special
and perfectly formed.
You worry that
no matter how much you tell them
there are others like them,
they will realize that’s only
partly true.
You worry so much
that the gender you chose
for them
won’t be the right
one
and they’ll have to navigate this
all over again.
You worry they’ll never
stop feeling that little twinge
whenever 
they have to answer whether
they’re a
boy
or a 
girl.