“So are you going to find out the sex of the baby?”
One of the hardest parts of being pregnant is the big ‘should we, shouldn’t we’ with finding out the sex of your baby. When we found out I was pregnant we didn’t want to and the shock on family’s and friend’s faces when we said we didn’t want to, woah! The shock, the horror that us as parents would go that far without finding out the sex of our child, to be set for our little family’s future together is apparently mind-boggling.
One of the first things we heard as soon as we announced that I was expecting, is the big question. I was only 11 weeks pregnant yet everyone had to ask. It seems that people have to have their say on a lot of things when you’re pregnant, a lot of things – another thing we’ve noticed a lot (I’ll explain later!)
We didn’t want to, we were surprised enough as it was that I was pregnant we wanted to stick to the big surprise and wait till he or she was born to find out. But what goes with that is a huge bundle of pressure from everyone and I’m not saying from those closest to you.
- Finding unisex clothes is hard and when you do it’s limited to a few things that don’t look very appealing
- Peer pressure, yes, your friends and family will make their voices known and your opinion apparently means nothing
- Picking out names is hard even without the constant bantering on from your friends and family
- What can you picture yourself with?
- Can you wait that long for the surprise?
It’s no one’s business apart from your own, even though your friends and family will make it their business to tell you what they think and won’t take whatever your answer is, even if it is right, as the definitive answer, because no matter what, they are right, and you’ll always be wrong (this is a pattern you’ll see as a pregnant person/couple on pretty much everything!). Stick to your guns if you don’t want to find out.
Or do what we did… We became so convinced that we were expecting a boy that we chose a boys name, only one as we knew it was a boy, looked at boys clothing, got excited about our future with the little nipper and everything in reference to the bump was he this and he that, our bump became a boy , mum agreed, so did a few others. Apparently the way my body carried my bump suggested that I was having a boy, my cravings indicated a boy, the morning sickness, this and that, he said she said and so we believed it. Until a week before. For some weird and strange reason I started having dreams, weird very real vivid dreams that told me that we were in fact expecting a girl not a boy. Every morning I would laugh at this silly dream, discuss it with my mum and say it just couldn’t be, because I felt hand on heart, that I was expecting a boy and by Jo I know my own body! After a discussion with Sam and feeling puzzled and confused, uhming and ah-ring if we should find out the sex, we decided finding out lies in how our little one positioned themselves in the second scan and if they want us to know, we’ll find out then.
We were wrong. Laughable how we got the whole thing wrong. All the old wives tales, the signs, the feelings were all so very wrong. As I laid out on that bed, the nurse put that icky gel onto my tummy, did every measurement to ensure our little one is ok and then confirmed, it’s most definitely a girl. So we laughed. Mine was a laugh of shock and happiness. Sam’s was a laugh of shock and realisation that he’s going to have a little girl, that most probably won’t be allowed out of his sight for the rest of her life. Confirming with my four year old niece that she was right and we were wrong, was both funny and heart-warming. She is estatic and can’t wait to meet her. And I can’t wait for them to play together.