I’ve always thought it would be kind of cool to wait till the birth to find out the sex of your baby. But who am I kidding?
I don’t have that kind of self control.
Right up until our 18-week scan I told Dr E I wanted to wait to find out, but then, as the ultrasound image flickered up on screen, I cracked.
“Oh go on, tell us!”
“It’s a girl. I am 99 per cent certain it’s a girl,” he said.
The grey and white image on screen, which looked like nothing much at all to me, he pointed out, was actually a full moon. We were looking straight at the baby’s bum and haunches. And there was no extra tackle in sight.
Dr E had an inkling of this at the 12-week scan, he confessed, but didn’t let on.
Miss predictable, I got all teary. Rufus did a bit too. I think he’s in shock. He has two boys, and we read somewhere that sperm dictated the sex, so even though I was feeling like it MIGHT be a girl, my head was telling me that Rufus’s sperm was probably going to give us a boy.
We were going out for a Chinese with his parents and brother and sister in law that night, so we broke the news over a lazy Susan laden with fried rice and stir-fry. His mother leapt out of her chair and said she knew all along (This seems to be a pretty common response from mothers and mothers-in-law and aunts and old ladies in general, I am finding. They come over all mystical in baby matters)
Earlier I was on skype to my parents who were clearly DYING to know. Dad even asked and I said we still didn’t know, because Rufus wasn’t there with me to share the news. So instead I called up their local florists, and ordered a bunch of pink flowers to be sent to their door with a card saying “It’s a girl!” I wanted them to have a little surprise.
My mother is beside herself at the news. And dad too, in a more reserved way. My greatest fear (well aside from obvious pregnancy paranoia fears) now is a tidal wave of pink stuff.
I really hate the way clothes manufacturers design girl’s clothes in that horrible pukey candy-ass pink. It’s hideous. Why can’t baby girls wear blue? Or turquoise? Or yellow or green or red? We don’t have anything much in the way of clothes (or anything) yet; just a red jumpsuit that says “Made in Peru” that we bought in a fit of whimsy circa IVF 1, and a few gifts.
We have a lead on an exporter of Pima cotton babywear here (Peru) where it’s all cut price, so we’re thinking of descending and buying pretty much everything in white in a few different sizes, and leaving the indulgence buying to family and friends.
It would be the sensible thing to do. But then… do I really have that kind of self-control?