It started when my partner, Juliette, was pregnant. “Do you know what you’re having?” well-meaning midwives would ask at check-ups. If the question was directed at me, I’d usually make a joke out of it. “We’re hoping for a human,” I’d smile. Or: “Ideally, not a Tory, though I’m sure we’d still love them.”
When Juliette went into labour, the gender question quickly became the first that every medic we interacted with would ask.
