The Anticipation is Killing Me

Before we got pregnant, actually before we even started trying, I thought that I would want to be one of those parents that waited till the baby was born to find out the sex.  I knew in my heart that I did not care if it was a boy or a girl, as long as they were healthy and all mine.  And then we got pregnant and Paul decided that he was going to find out the sex, no matter what... And that if I did not want to know, he would just not tell me.  What is that?!?  So I gave in.  I decided that if I got to carry the baby for nine months and experience all the wonderful parts of being pregnant, the least I could do for Paul is share in the joy of finding out the sex of the baby.

And now we wait.  At our last appointment the doctor got us all excited at 11 weeks, mentioning that there was a chance that we might be able to tell.  And then nothing.   But the worst part was that I did not think before we went in for that appointment that we had a chance in hell of finding out till 20 weeks, and here we were at 11 weeks.  And that is where it started and now all I think about, day and night, is finding out if there is a little wein or who-ha growing inside of me.  We have another appointment on Tuesday and my fingers are crossed that the doctor will be able to see something, anything.  And though I know that it does change my feelings in the least about the baby growing inside, there is something to be said for being able to say he or she, instead of feeling the instinct to say it.

And so we wait... But I do have a hunch that we have a girl on our hands.  Something about the Chinese calendar and the fact that I am growing all over the place, and the secret hope that I will have someone to shop and drink wine with, is leading me down that road...  BUT we will have to wait for now!