I grew up in a girl-oriented family. I am one of two girls; my mom is one of two girls; our close family friends (who lived down the street and with whom we vacationed regularly) have two girls. There was a time in college when I felt like I was the one in the family who did things differently--for example, going to a women's college where I was quite unlikely to meet my future husband, or studying abroad in Senegal--and I thought to myself that I would probably end up being the odd one out who had a son someday.
But since then I had pretty much assumed that I would have a girl. I leaned toward wanting a girl, though not heavily. I thought that Piglet was a girl. Almost everyone in the world seemed to agree with me; other than a few blog readers, everyone I encountered guessed that it was a girl.
When we went into the ultrasound we told the tech that we did want to know the baby's sex, if she was able to tell. A few minutes into the ultrasound the tech said to us, "You said you did want to know the sex, right?" I knew in that moment that she had seen it, that the Piglet had cooperated with nice uncrossed legs. We both said yes, we did want to know, and the tech said, "It's a little boy."
My first reaction was shock. I hadn't realized how convinced I was that the baby was a girl until I found out otherwise. I said, "Oh!" and Torsten reached over and squeezed my hand. She showed us the clear evidence that it was a boy, pointing out the hipbones from below, the legs extending out in a V, and the obvious outline between them. And I lay there trying to wrap my head around the idea that the little baby inside me was a boy.
The funny thing is that I wasn't disappointed. I had been afraid that I would be, if it were a boy. And I wouldn't have been disappointed if it had been a girl either. But I just could not grasp the idea that it was a boy. It really just would not connect in my head that this baby that we'll be having in a few months would be a boy baby. I really hadn't known how much I'd been assuming it was a girl. I watched as the tech moved on with the ultrasound and I worked on reconfiguring my concept of the person this baby is and will be.
And after a minute, as we looked at his spine and his heart and his bones and his bladder, it clicked. Suddenly it made perfect sense that this was our baby, this boy with his lovely four-chambered heart and the nice line dividing the hemispheres in his brain and his giant-looking belly (though actually the belly, giant though it looks to us, is apparently measuring slightly behind the rest of him--so I guess giant bellies are normal at this stage).
As soon as I grasped that our baby was a boy, that it was not the Piglette I'd been assuming but rather a Piglito, I was thrilled. I surprised myself with how delighted I was. My mind just flooded with great things about boys, and how wonderful it will be to have this boy in particular. A little bilingual boy who will wear adorable striped shirts and overalls and jeans and little sweaters (like this one OMG I NEED THAT except it would really be better for a toddler than a baby and also it's incredibly expensive but still LOOK HOW CUTE). A boy who will teach us to change diapers quickly so we don't get hit in the face with a stream of pee. A boy who will grow up to become a ridiculous, amazing, hilarious teenager.
A sweet little boy who will hopefully have a lovely straightforward relationship with his mom (and dad). A boy who will not get buried under a mountain of pink unless he chooses it himself (but who will still wear as much purple as I can find--so far this, this, and this). A boy who will be gross and probably have to be taught why it's not OK to pee in the front yard (but who maybe, if he's anything like his father, will skip the stage of bringing bugs and other icky living creatures into the house). A boy who will love his dog and will learn very early not to pull her tail. A boy who might someday grow up and marry a woman, making me some other woman's mother-in-law.
And is it bad that I feel kind of relieved that we will avoid some girl-heavy landmines with this kid, like wanting to wear revealing clothes very young, and the drama of mean-girl cliques, and the worry about sexual assault (though of course that can happen to a boy too), and down the line possible issues with glass ceilings? Because of course it would be lovely if issues like this didn't affect women more, but the fact is that they do and while I would love to change that I also selfishly appreciate that this child won't have to deal with some of those hurdles.
A BOY. Our beautiful little boy. I still can't even believe how happy I am about this.
Of course, we still don't have a CLUE what we're going to name him.
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