This is soul-baring true confession time here, so read to the end before judging. Those of you that have followed from the beginning know that I had some serious issues when I found out Stella was a girl. I’ll admit I was disappointed. I just knew she was a boy. I wanted a “mommy’s boy,” a little creature that would love me in this special never-before-experienced kind of way. I lamented that now I’d have to worry about teenage pregnancy, a princess wedding, and possible eating disorder. I immediately felt like an ass for those thoughts, and that ass-ness has only increased exponentially since falling in total love with Stella. Gender be damned, that little girl loves me in a way I’ve never been loved before.
So we go in Wednesday to have our anatomy scan. I had been feeling pretty extreme movement for weeks. I am carrying high again. The heart rate has been high again. All wives’ tales indicate that I was destined for another girl. I just knew it was a girl. I had a rad name all picked out. I dreamed of clothing recycling and room-sharing. Sisters. A super-cool concept that I’ve never known personally.
Nope. There’s a definite penis1. I told Will that I’m having some issues with this. For starters, I don’t know how to care for boy bits. I don’t have one of those things. I know they squirt and squirt high and often. Will used to lament upon changing Stella’s diapers: “There is poo in her bits. How do you get poo out of the bits? Can you wipe the bits too hard?” On the plus side, now Will gets to have his own set of uncomfortable conversations with one of the children as they get older. It won’t be all me with periods, birth control, and bras. He’ll get birth control, voice changing, and wet dreams, and how to be a “man.”
I am terrified to a degree. “Everyone” always says that boys are so much rowdier in general than little girls. I don’t know how that can possibly be true in my house. If there is a kid rowdier than Stella, there will be nothing left of me, Will, or our house by the time he’s 4. This was only cemented by the ultrasound process in general. You ladies know that you’re instructed to show up with a “full bladder.2” It took that poor tech ages to get all of her measurements as our new son was whirling like a dervish, my bladder mashed all the while. I was even interrogated as to what I had eaten for breakfast to see if that had fueled the little devil.
I know this little guy will be fantastic, just like his big sister. As Will said, now we get the full experience. Some days, however, I wonder how much experience one person can take! Regardless, never ever ask me to pick a winner at the racetrack, or lotto numbers, or even a good grocery cart at the store. Based on the gender prediction of my own children, I seem to choose poorly! Until he’s born and a name is announced (and no, I have no clue what the hell that is yet), I am changing his designation to Baby Y. It seems more chromosomally appropriate.
1 I thought, very briefly, about posting one of the ultrasound pics but that just seems vulgar. And philosophically, does that count as child porn? I sure as heck don’t want to find out.
2 That’s a huge source of stress for me. You already have to pee or think you have to pee all the time. Then how full is full? When should you schedule your last pee before your appointment? How much should you drink to ensure proper volume in the bladder?