Six months pregnant and waiting to go in for my scan, I felt anxious.  I already had a boy.  Alexander was almost two.  Now I wanted a girl. Before trying for this baby, I'd followed a diet that was supposed to help determine the sex.  For a girl, you were meant to avoid salty food and go for milk, cream and yoghurt. The staff set about doing the scan.  I couldn't stop myself.  `Is it a boy or a girl?' I asked. They wouldn't tell me.  But I thought I glimpsed a penis and testicles on the screen. `I'm sure we're having a boy,' I said to my husband Mark that night.  He didn't mind one way or the other.  `Let's just wait and see, love,' he smiled.

Three months later, I gave birth to Christopher.  For just a split second, I felt a pang of disappointment.  Then it went - I knew how lucky I was to have another beautiful, healthy baby. And I wasn't surprised it was another boy.  I had two brothers, and my father was one of three boys.  So was Mark. Looking after two little ones was very demanding.  But still I wanted a daughter.

I'd been very close to my mum Pamela.  She died in 1995 and I missed her terribly.  We'd had such a close bond, the kind only a mother and daughter can have.  I knew the only way to experience that again would be to have a little girl of my own. My periods had gone a bit haywire.  I was bleeding twice a month and worried I could be starting an early menopause.  The thought that I might not be able to have any more children made me fell desperate.

When Christopher was just over two old, I sat Mark down.  `I want to try for another baby - a girl,' I told him. He was fine about it. I started using ovulation charts but, five months later, we'd still had no luck.  Then a friend called.  She told me about a new clinic that claimed to help you choose the sex of your child.
 I called Right Baby, and they sounded encouraging.  The service cost £199 and there were no drugs involved. They sent me a detailed questionnaire.  I wrote down information - about my periods, ovulation dates, blood type, sex of my children - and sent it off.

Two weeks later, I received a 12-month calendar.  Certain days were highlighted - this was when I could conceive a girl.  At all other times we had to refrain from sex or use a barrier method of birth control. Right Baby said that most of the women they helped conceive within six months.  But I found I was pregnant within just one month.

`What if it's another boy?' I thought.

But it was too late to worry about that now.  I was in my late 30s and the most important thing was to find out if my baby was developing normally.  At 11 weeks, I had some tests and a scan.  The results would also tell me if I was expecting a girl or a boy. I wouldn't hear for two days.  When the phone finally rang, I was quaking with nerves.  `Mrs Redmain?' I heard the voice say.  `I have good news.  Everything's fine, and you're expecting a girl.' I burst into tears.  I couldn't help it - I was so happy.  But later I worried they might have made a mistake.  I called back. `I just want you to confirm the results,' I said.  They repeated them.  I still wasn't convinced.  I called again and got the same reply.  When I told Mark that night, he was as thrilled as me.

Out and about in the shops, I couldn't resist buying pretty little floral outfits.  Back a home, I'd put them away with the receipts.  `If it's a boy I'll just take them back,' I told myself. I explained to the boys I was having another baby.  `I don't want another brother,' said Alexander.  `You'll love it, whatever it is,' I said, afraid to tempt fate. At six months, I started bleeding, but a scan showed everything was normal.  I inspected every inch of my baby's image on the screen.  I couldn't see any male genitals. Even so, I wouldn't let myself truly believe it.  `Not until she's in my arms,' I told Mark, 49. On 11 August this year, I went into labour.  I'd just been helped onto the bed when I gave birth - it had taken just 25 minutes.

`Well done,' the midwife beamed.  ` You have a little girl.'  I was so shocked from the speed on my labour, I barely took it in.

When the midwife left, I undid the nappy and saw for myself.  Then and only then did I let myself believe I had a daughter. `Hello, you' I whispered. We called her Emily, with Pamela as a middle name, after my mum.  The boys are mad about her, especially Alexander, now five.  Hearing him talk about his baby sister is so sweet. I don't love Emily any more than my sons - I wouldn't be without them for the world.  It's just that she's different. I don't feel it was wrong to choose the sex of my child.  I don't know how I'd have reacted if we'd had a boy, but I'm sure I'd have loved him just as much.

Emily's just Emily.  She's made me, and our family complete

Wendy Redmain, 39, from Wandsworth, SW London
This article was featured in That's Life Magazine October 1998.