Gender Issues

Fuck it, let’s be perfectly honest here. We are hoping the small one is a boy, and we get to find out if this hunch/desire is correct a week from today. One Week. And then I know what the heck is hanging out in my belly. ONE WEEK. And I know whether I need to have a No Pink intervention with my mother-in-law or if I should get my parents to swear on the grave of Joe DiMaggio that they will only purchase the one pin-striped piece of Yankees paraphernalia we are allotting (read: appeasing) them. O-N-E   W-E-E-K !!! My attempt at being that cool, laid back pregnant lady is totally failing me.

Why a boy, you ask? First, I have a theory that it is nearly universal that husbands want to have a son first, if only to be sure they are passing on the family name. Mine is no different, although this is compounded by the fact that his two older brothers have thus far produced three girls, so the pressure/prize for having the first grandson is substantial (although I’m partly convinced that the youngest of the four siblings, the only girl, will be the first to produce a boy, just for the irony of it). For my family, this will be the first grandchild period – and even the first great grandchild on my mother’s side, so regardless of gender, my clan is just thrilled they’ll get to see a baby again.

So why do I want a boy? Honestly, I think it’s partly because I was the older sister to a little brother, and I always wanted a big brother (along these lines, the one guy I do know who was routing for baby No. 1 to be a girl was a big brother to a younger sister – he had a son who he absolutely adores).

Will I be happy either way – that goes without saying. I mean, we’re having at least two (I think only children are kinda weird, sorry you singles out there), so the first one doesn’t really matter. In fact, if it were a perfect world, I’d have one boy and then two girls, but let’s not get crazy ahead of ourselves here. But yeah, we’re looking to see a little wiener this go around.

This week feels like waiting for college acceptance letters, but knowing what day the letter comes. Sure, this will pale to the whole “day the kid’s born” experience, but even my cynical self can appreciate the big-ness of this ultrasound.

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