Last weekend, my 6-year-old daughter, Sophia, attended her first baby shower. A close family friend is expecting a baby girl, and Sophia was thrilled to be included in the celebration. The sugary treats and pink decorations captured her attention, and during our drive home, she had a flurry of questions.
“Mommy, if someone decides to have another baby next year, can they have another shower?” she asked.
“I think so! Every baby deserves to be celebrated,” I replied. “Plus, any excuse for cake is a good one.”
“Are you going to have more babies?” she inquired.
I assured her that I wasn’t planning to have more children. Moments later, she pondered her own future family. “I don’t care if I have a boy or a girl. I just want a healthy baby,” she declared.
I had echoed the same sentiment countless times during my own pregnancy. Whenever well-meaning friends or strangers asked about my preference for a boy or girl, I would default to the safe response, “as long as it’s healthy,” without truly considering the implications of those words.
Hearing my daughter utter this phrase made me realize it sounded strange, as if it implied that health was the only measure of a child’s worth. I realized that these words, while often said with good intentions, can carry a harsh underlying message. They suggest that anything less than perfect would be disappointing, which is not a sentiment I want to pass on to my child.
I have met many parents of children with special needs who are just as devoted and loving as any parent. They don’t love their children any less because of their challenges. So why do we continue to say we only want a healthy baby?
What many of us mean is that we wish for our children to avoid suffering, a natural desire. However, it’s also crucial to understand that by saying we want only healthy children, we may inadvertently perpetuate ableism and exclude those who may not fit that mold. Instead of shaming those who may misspeak, let’s promote a more inclusive phrase:
“I want the child I am meant to have.”
This approach is kinder and more accurate, leaving no one out while being open to all possibilities. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, allowing for the acknowledgment of every unique child, regardless of their health status.
When I shared this perspective with Sophia, I asked, “Would you love your babies any less if they were sick?”
“Of course not!” she giggled, recognizing the absurdity of such a thought.
“Do you think I wouldn’t want you if you weren’t healthy? No way! I love you no matter what,” I affirmed.
“I’m going to love my babies the same way,” she replied.
I explained to her that not all babies are born healthy, yet they are equally deserving of love and celebration. As we agreed, every baby should be celebrated, right? “With cake,” she added—and I wholeheartedly concurred.
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In summary, the phrase “all I want is a healthy baby” often conveys more than intended. By reframing our language to express our openness to the child we are meant to have, we foster a more inclusive understanding of love and acceptance in parenting.