What? You thought we were going to tell you the sex of our unborn baby? Sorry kids, you thought wrong. We can’t tell you because we don’t know. This time around we’re not finding out.
There’s a part of me that wishes I could tell you – part of me that wishes I knew so I could be prepared for this baby’s arrival – but I’m actually pretty excited to not know.
When I was a teenager I asked for a unique pair of pants for Christmas. They were a particular brand that made a type of tear-away jeans – yeah, no idea why those didn’t catch on – and they were marketed towards skater kids. My punk rock, teenage self desperately wanted these to complete my skater/tomboy image. They were sold in the men’s section of shops like PacSun and Hot Topic, and they would be the perfect accoutrement to my vibrant green vans with checkerboard laces.
My parents are wonderful people, and wouldn’t you know that despite my questionable fashion sense they bought me those pants for Christmas. And I wish I could say that I was more grateful when I opened them on Christmas morning, but something had happened before that day that made grateful excitement nearly impossible. I peaked.
Okay, in my defense, I didn’t mean to peak. It was a total accident. I was looking for a pair nylons – skater kids still have to get dressed up from time to time – in my mother’s closet. She had a bag that she kept on the floor of her closet, and that’s where I found myself – opening a plastic bag where I thought said nylons would be, when I was surprised to find the extra sturdy denim material with metal snaps running down the seam of the jeans I had thought were only a pipe dream.
Instant joy…followed by a sinking pit in my stomach. These were not an inexpensive present – probably the most expensive gift I would receive that year. This was my big gift. This was going to be the crowning glory on Christmas morning. After all the presents had been opened it might be pulled from it’s hiding place and presented with anticipation as my parents waited for my confusion followed by overwhelming disbelief followed by joy and hugs of gratitude. Okay, maybe a teenage me wouldn’t have mustered all of that, but my 30 year old brain hopes that I would have.
Christmas day came, and while I don’t remember exactly how the events of the morning played out I don’t think anyone noticed that I knew about the jeans. I’m sure it was a great day, and life went on. I wore those jeans out – even after they came undone at inopportune times (tear-away jeans were not very practical) like when you’re practicing stage falls in drama class.
I didn’t ruin my Christmas, and I don’t think that finding out the sex of our baby would ruin any joyfulness or excitement I have about meeting him or her. It didn’t with our first – and I was pretty adamant about finding out then. Whatever flimsy logic this statement presents – I just don’t want to open my Christmas present early this year. I know that I will love this child with the same ferocity and passion that I had when I saw my first child for the first time.
To be completely transparent – knowing that he would be a boy made little to no difference in how ready I was (or wasn’t) to raise a child. Sure, I had painted his room blue (but it would have made a great girl’s room too – clouds and friendly monsters and clotheslines, oh my!), but that was about the extent of our “readiness.” Our lives were completely changed overnight. I know the same will be true by adding a fourth family member – there’s no way we’ll be truly “ready.”
On a more practical note, there’s not much getting ready that we can do. Baby will start life just like Little T did – in a pack ‘n’ play in our room until we get some extended sleeping hours, and then he or she will enjoy the same comforts as his or her brother by moving into a crib that will be in a shared room with said brother. Honestly, even if we did have another room and knew we were having a girl I would never dream of painting it pink. I liked Tylyn’s little indoor/outdoor bedroom in our old place – I would have loved living there as a kid. Also most of the newborn and baby clothes we have aren’t gender specific, so it’s going to be generally business as usual at least for the first few months.
If you ask my husband, he’d put it this way: our lives together have been characterized by anything but stability, and we’re currently in a torrent of change and turmoil. There are so many things right now that are unknown and unknowable – why not let this baby be a part of that mystery. We love our life the way it is, and we’ll love this baby either way – let’s just enjoy the romance of not knowing. I know – I married an artist, and it’s wonderful.
And now I don’t know what the point of this post is anymore.
So I guess I can wrap it up by saying that A.) we’re super excited about baby #2, and B.) we’re possibly even more excited about not knowing if it will be a little Johnny or little Janey (not names we’re actually entertaining by the way). Chalk it up to mom/baby brain – but I’ll have to leave you there…wondering with the rest of us.