August 19, 2010

There is a reason a baby’s gender should sometimes be a surprise.
 
This is our last child, and I am so glad we haven’t found out the sex of the baby. I sit around staring at walls and random strangers, contemplating the possibilities of its gender and all the things that go with it.

Logically, I want a girl. We’ve got two boys and a daughter; even numbers are so refreshing. Besides, who doesn’t like the idea of clearing out all the mini-male paraphernalia once and for all? It will simplify so much.

The funny thing is how many people are horrified that we have the gall to wait it out. If they only realized the up side of ignorance.

With our first baby, Harrison, I was so certain and so hopeful that he was a girl that just the idea of a boy gave me fits. Quite frankly, nothing short of a C-section could have convinced me otherwise, and I can tell you right now that had we found out, I would have mourned my expected little daughter.

But …

The moment the doctor pulled him out and said the word, “Boy!” I was madly in love.

I didn’t have a chance to miss my baby girl; she had been replaced with a handsome, strong, new little man that took over my world with his first wail. It was magical, shocking, and I instantly forgave him for entering the world with the wrong chromosome.

With June, my third, I also “knew” she was a girl. Unfortunately, I had to admit that my intuition is totally faulty. My sweetheart was adamant that we wait for the surprise, but I came up with a list of personal reasons why I needed to know and committed the ultimate crime: I secretly found out the sex of our baby and didn’t tell my husband.
 
In case you’re wondering, I’ve only recently revealed this treacherous act to my darling, who no longer trusts me and thinks I’m the world’s worst person/greatest liar. Mr. Honest John is convinced that I know what we’re having this time and am full of sneaky, underhanded mom-foolery. (He’s also been secretly investigating the possibility that I’m an undercover Russian spy.)
Having been on both sides of this gender fence and looking back at my experience with June, I so wish I had waited for those three magical words —“It’s a girl!”

When it comes right down to it, there are so few grand surprises left in the world; I don’t want to mess with one of God’s most thrilling moments. And I know how fun it was in the ultrasound room, but it didn’t hold a candle to meeting my baby in person.

Boy or girl, it really won’t matter. This will be our last baby, the last time I’ll experience the magic first hand. We don’t care if it comes out pink or blue (figuratively speaking). Bringing a child into the world is a first-class miracle that I’ve been privileged to experience, and I wouldn’t trade this sacrifice for anything.

Now, if I can just avoid labor until my husband comes home from Never Never Land.

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com