So you're having a boy. No matter how I try, I can't be happy. I try to tell myself it doesn't matter, but I know it does. My heart sank when I lost hope of a girl. It's not that I feel that girls are superior. It's that, even though you don't recognize it, you do. If it was a girl, you'd recognize the perfection of your baby, but you've fallen for the lie that boys are born imperfect and are better off if their bodies are altered. Before your son has a chance to go home, to prove he can wash himself and is healthy, to say he likes his body the way it is, his most sensitive part will be painfully ripped, crushed and sliced from his body. His struggles and cries will be ignored. He may lose his penis or his life, but even that isn't enough to change your mind. You are the parent and believe it's your right to alter his penis and its function to meet your preferences. There is nothing I can say or do to protect him from the trauma and lifelong loss you intend to inflict. I can't be happy when all I want to do is cry for the baby I can't save.