Let's hear it for my baby

Welp, it's another boy.

In case you can't see it, the ultrasound tech helpfully labeled the picture "Boy!!!" and inserted an arrow pointing to the, uh...area of interest.


He is healthy, has all his parts - good palate, good brain, good spine, good heart. He's very active, apparently - I can feel some movements, but both the ultrasound tech on Friday and my OB on Monday were like, "Whoa! What's he doing in there?" As if I have some idea. Knitting? Rearranging the furniture?

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed that it's not a girl. So why can't I just come right out and say, "I'm disappointed"? Because that sounds so fucking...harsh. I have to couch it in semi-polite terms and say, "If you asked me, if you really want to know, if I'm being honest...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed." Somehow that seems more palatable.

And it's not just that I want another girl on the "team" in our household, although that's part of it. I'll be surrounded by penises and I'll never win the Toilet Seat Default Mode war now. ("Down!" "Up!" "Down!" "Up!" "Duck season!" "Rabbit season!") Right now my only ally on the feminine side of things is Lola, and if you've ever met Lola, you know that she's not exactly an asset on the balance sheet of life - she shits on the rug and her favorite hobby is chewing her toes.

It's more that I'd really like to have a girl so I can teach her all the things I think are important about being a girl and then being a woman - all the stuff I screwed up or wished I had known more about or fought harder for (or against). Then again, maybe it's best that I don't have a daughter - I just re-read that last sentence and it sounds like I'd be trying to live my life over again through my daughter. Not a recipe for success. (Whatever "success" is when you're raising kids.)

I was really hoping for a girl, I guess. I just looked at my list of possible baby names for this kid, and there were 11 girls' names and 2 boys' names, both of which are leftovers from the list we made for Nolan. That's a pretty good indicator.

Another big thing is that if we want to try again (for a girl) after this baby, that will just delay my return to the real world by another few years. Sigh.

I'm sure I'll get over it. I'm sure I'll love this kid just as much as I love Nolan.

And I know Nolan's going to be a great older brother, notwithstanding tonight's going-to-bed conversation. We were sitting in the rocking chair, talking about our day, our usual nighttime routine, and in the middle of his typical stall tactics, he comes out with "I don't want your belly to get bigger and bigger and bigger." So I say, "Why?" thinking it will have something to do with him not fitting on my lap anymore. And he says, "Because I'm not ready for all the crying."

Me either, kid. But it comes with the territory.

Thanks for reading.