When we discovered I was pregnant for the first time we decided to wait and let the sex of the baby be a surprise. You have so few opportunities in life to really look forward to something with such anticipation so we figured why not? Most of these occasions happen in your childhood: not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve with the anticipation of what Santa might bring, discovering which of your friends would be in your class each year, rushing to the mailbox everyday to see what college said yes. I was at a place in my life where I knew that Santa would be bringing me a gift certificate each year, I saw the exact same faces at work day after day, and the most exciting thing I’d had in my mailbox in the last six months was a refund check from the electric company for $14.65. I needed a surprise in my life.
I personally was convinced it was a boy during the entire pregnancy right up until the final month. And in all honesty, I was hoping for a boy. A boy just seemed like a better fit for our family. I’ll take a basketball game and a beer over shopping and Sex in the City any day of the week. I was also very aware that if we were to have a girl she and I would have to move out of the house upon her 13th birthday because there is no way my husband could handle a teenage daughter. This hit home when we drove by a high school girls volleyball team doing a fundraiser car wash. “What the hell do they think they’re wearing” he asks. “Bathing suits, it’s a car wash,” I reply. “You better believe no daughter of mine will be seen out in something like that!” Well, at least we would save money on swimming lessons.
The main reason I thought it was a girl at the end was because I hadn’t gained that much weight in spite of eating whatever I wanted. This left me to assume my unborn daughter must be anorexic and refusing all the tacos and burgers I’d been sending her way. I was already looking in to self esteem classes for infants to assist in this unfortunate turn of events.
But as it turns out I was wrong. And it wasn’t the first look at my child that brought me the knowledge of his sex, or the doctor giving the initial “it’s a boy” reaction when the little penis made its way out. No, for me it was the first pump and extremely loud “YES” that my husband let out as if the Bronco’s had just won the Super Bowl, that let me know my SON had been born. And I couldn’t have been happier.