Nine months ago I wrote the post ‘XY’ and talked about how I was over-the-moon about adopting a boy. Not that I don’t like girls or girly-stuff. It just seemed pretty likely we’d be adopting a boy.

We said we were up for either gender on our dossier. Since there are more families requesting girls, we ended up significantly higher on the waiting list for a boy.

Over the past year while our dossier sat in Armenia I occasionally allowed myself random and fanciful purchases for our “boy-to-be.” I held off from decorating the “nursery” (which was our office until we did our recent remodel, and is still serving as Big Papa’s office for the time being), but I hit up a number of local consignment shops for cute overalls, a few shirts and the occasional truck or kid’s tool kit. Big Papa and I even went as far as to pick out a top contender name for our future son.

After our fateful trip in September, when we decided to pass on the infant boy with special needs, I squirreled away most of my finds. Toys went into a pine toy chest and the clothes were folded and put in a grocery bag which I placed in our basement “winter storage” closet. Then we remodeled.

Fast forward five months. Post-remodel, our basement (the dirt floor with piles of coal basement that is our Urban Cabin) is more dust-filled than ever before since the construction crew used it to saw this or that during the rainy season. Our storage shelves, previously lined up against the walls around the perimeter of the basement, now congregate in a tight huddle in the middle of our front basement room.

The free stroller and tricycle castoffs I nabbed via my neighborhood moms-group, sit silently in the back. And, I’d completely forgotten about the bag of boys clothes I’d put into hiding until I went down to the basement last week to gather up some of my own clothes that I hoped to consign or donate.

Surprise! There they were, a pile of boy duds, including a cute t-shirt with an Orcas whale on it, dungaree shorts, and some rock ‘em, stomp ‘em baby work boots.

It was at that moment, it occurred to me we could end up parenting a daughter, not a son. Sure, we finally made it to the top of the list for a baby boy, but these days our position for a baby girl isn’t far behind. Families in front of us have received referrals. Their decision to adopt a boy or girl has pushed us a place or two further ahead in the ‘XX’ line. If just a couple more families get referrals for girls we could be neck in neck for either one.  Go figure.

Honestly, if we adopt a healthy happy baby, I couldn’t care less if it’s a boy or a girl. Plus we’re active, outdoorsy, play-in-the dirt sort of folks, so those boots and overalls will come in handy, whether it turns out we’re toting along a son or a daughter. Heck, if he turns out to be a she, she can just pull her tutu on top of it all.