We are having a boy (until a few years from now, when he tells us differently).
I was not expecting a boy; I did not want a boy. I had no idea I felt this way, however, until Friday’s ultrasound when the lab tech said “You’re having a son!” and I literally burst into tears (not the happy kind). Woah.
I sobbed all the way home, without really understanding what my problem was. And on and off again all weekend. Like, intense, body-wracking sobs. Harder than I’ve cried since the Lumberjack’s mom died 2 years ago. The Lumberjack, meanwhile, who had been expressing his preference of a girl all along while I stuck with my overly optimistic “I don’t care as long as it’s healthy!” perspective, could not contain his smile. He was lighting up every corner of the house. We figured out later that he knew what he preferred, so he was prepared for the alternative. Whereas I had completely denied having a preference, so I was totally blindsided by the fact that I had one, and that I wasn’t getting it.
The baby is healthy, you will be happy to hear (as was I). I have an anterior placenta, which explains why I haven’t felt much movement. The baby has a huge brain, and a quickly beating heart, and he grabs his little toes when the lab tech is trying to get a clear picture of them. He has tiny toes! Because he is tiny!
I did a bunch of reading on “gender disappointment” over the weekend, and apparently 1) I am not alone, and 2) I have it WAY better than some of the women out there. One lady said that she regularly considers giving up her 3 boys for adoption, so that they can be with someone “who really loves them.” Holy shit. But the main thing I learned was that a lot of women have a general idea or vision of what their kid will look/be like, and it usually has a specific gender. So finding out that you didn’t get that gender requires you to rewrite your perspective of what you’re getting, while simultaneously mourning the kid you won’t be getting (this time around, anyway).
I’m going to have a baby, and he’s going to be a little boy, and somewhere in the past few hours I suddenly got So Fucking Psyched. I don’t know what happened. I was walking to work listening to KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Baby Give it Up” and suddenly I pictured myself with a little boy, dancing around a kitchen, and I got so totally, blissfully happy. I guess I rewrote my vision, and now I’m the one who can’t stop smiling.
AS LONG AS HE DOESN’T TURN INTO A DOUCHEBAG.
I told the Lumberjack “I still need this baby to be a feminist.” He said “Well, yeah…I assumed that would be a given. I mean, we’re the ones who are going to be shaping his world view.” Hot damn I love my Lumberjack.