Boy or Girl? One of lifes few surprises.

Written By Rebecca

So Mr. Price has his less complicated, basic reasons for not finding out the sex of our second baby.  Me, I’m slightly more complex and need repeated justifications and deep and meaningful reasons behind why I choose certain things.  I mean, all that therapy I don’t pay for, my self psychologist has to do something to keep her busy… right?  Especially when we are trying to avoid laundry and general about-the-house cleaning.

Profile of Baby 2.0

 

Ok, so next to Cilla, I look like the most self absorbed, whiny and miserable pregnant person on the planet.  Well, it’s the truth isn’t it?  I am.  Pretty miserable.  If it “Wasn’t all worth it in the end” (yeah, yeah I know) I would have purchased separate twin beds with matching horrible itchy quilts and single nightstands, shag carpet, implemented a “no touching” rule after 9pm and mu mus for night gowns a long time ago.  (This was meant to be an extremely long winded way of saying, avoided getting knocked up in the first place… for the SECOND time.)

Luckily, I DO KNOW it is all worth it in the end.  It always turns out alright on the night, I say.  But first time around, well, let’s just say that this time, I am actually LESS pissed off at being pregnant, compared to Joseph.  Now you really think I’m evil.  That’s OK, go ahead and judge me and jump on over to one of Cilla’s blog pots about being positive and pregnant.  Go ahead.

For some CRAZY ASS reason first time around, I wanted a girl.  NOT A BOY.  A girl.  Quick background on me, my 23 year old sister and I are the end of the line for the Warrell clan (yes, Warrell is my maiden name, don’t try to say it, just move on).  I have no cousins, NONE.  No more brothers or sisters, no relatives that have procreated.  I have no idea what it’s like to grow up around boys, near them, with them or within a 5 mile radius of their messy and stinky feet.  I know how to be me, and not that I’m girly by any stretch of the imagination, but I know how the girl junk works, I know how the boobs get in the way and I know how you want to grow your hair really long only to cut it off in a spontaneous tantrum one day as the last customer in the salon at 8pm on a Monday night.

First time pregnant:  20 weeks roll around, we’ve got a GAZILLION girls names picked out and honestly, Mr. Price was also jonesing for a girl (he’s really always wanted one, WHY I don’t know, he can’t deal with me sometimes and it’s only worse with a daughter, but anyway).  I’m sitting in the ultrasound tech’s room, dimmed lights, but no soft music, red wine or delicious meal, just my pants down and I’m suddenly relieved that at 20 weeks the device is placed ON my stomach and not the “other way” to do an ultrasound… pshew.

“Alright you want to know what it is?”
“Yes.”
“See that right there, that’s his penis between his two legs – it’s a boy!”
Me:  “…can you, can you check again?”…  (Family guy reference)

I was PISSED.  SO pissed.  I went back to work and complained to anyone who would listen I knew NOTHING about boys.  Nothing.  How does the penis thing even work?  Peeing standing up?  I wish, I could do that, but I tried, and no matter how far you throw your hips out, it still gets on your pants and down your legs.. ahem..  Bugger.

A Boy, NOW we have to come up with LAME names.  Ugh.  Yeah, I really felt this way.  Horrible, I know, and it’s still not too late for you to click on one of Cilla’s pregger posts…..  ,

SO, for the next 5 or so months I had time to get used to the idea of having a boy, and names, were a lost cause. (Luckily, as it turns out, Mr. Price was saving “Joseph” as a surprise last minute gamble of the aces up his sleeve move).  And it worked.  At 4pm exactly on that February afternoon, Joseph was pushed out, placed on me and instantly I turned to the nurse and said “You hurt this son of mine and I’ll cut your eyes out with a spoon.”  ( I didn’t SAY that, they still had some “sewing” to do and I didn’t want them to mess that up, so I just shot everyone murder-death-kill looks with my eyes, in between my ridiculous ear to ear beaming).  Girl or boy didn’t matter, Joseph mattered, and that’s all I have to say about that.

I love my miniature Mr. Price more than all the mini eggs in this world and any other possible supply of mini eggs in the 3rd or 4th dimensions and more than breathing.  Anything could be made perfect if Joseph is a part of it, that’s how I see it and that’s how it will stay.  He couldn’t be any cooler right now unless he suddenly shared my immature affection for using movie quotes to replace sensible adult conversations… one day young grasshopper, one day…..
Wow, I’m already setting this next kid up for some major psychological sibling rivalry and it’s not even out yet!

Lo EXT view of Baby 2.0... possible 2 legs and little "thingy" in between?

See, I was setting myself up for disappointment with my crazy pre-conceived ideas about boys and sh*t I didn’t know about boys.  Boy or girl, problems, no problems, I don’t need to agonize and and stress (although that’s pretty much my M.O. anyway) over non-sensical sh*t that’s not going to matter when the day comes anyway.  I like to be prepared and I hate surprises, but the Buddhist in me likes to remind myself that;

“If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.”

Coming from a self proclaimed worry, and guilty “What- if?” kinda gal, I gotta embrace this inner Buddhist to stave off the crazy a little while longer.
Having a boy, with zero boy experience, was unexpectedly and most instantly a non-issue after I met Joseph.  That’s why finding out for Baby #2, doesn’t matter at all, what I cook up in that crazy little head of mine rarely translates into anything sane or understandable.

So, this time around we have no idea what we are having and we like it that way, boy or girl, it’s going to be alright on the night. And yes, we don’t have any names except for a bucket of 30 so we each equally like, and we’re excited (even if Mr. Price is STILL secretly jonesing for a girl)..  Yes, he’s the CRAZY one.

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