The more you know…or don’t.
February 7, 2013 § 2 Comments
To answer your question: No, we don’t know.
Boy? Girl?–What is Peanut? Well, definitely not a dinosaur, so we’re pretty happy about that.
It’s the inquiry we’ve heard over and over, our answer constantly baffling others whose opinions I once shared. So I figured I would set the record straight.
When we learned we were pregnant, we seriously talked about whether or not we would want to find out the gender. Naturally. I, for one, ALWAYS thought that it would be no question- how could you wait? Carry a baby in your belly for nine months and not know? Impossible. No brainer. But my husband had other ideas (which I laughed at in my head nearly every time he expressed them b/c I couldn’t help but think, “Yeah right, buddy. I’m so gonna win this.”).
Coming at no surprise to me or anyone else who knows the man, he wanted to wait and be surprised.
So we hemmed and hawed for a while, in no rush to decide and probably thinking the other one was just going to come around with time. What shocked me, however, was how indifferent I turned out to be. It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would to look down and wonder if it was a boy or a girl. In fact, most times I left it at just that- wonder. Before being caught up in planning if Bobby would play soccer or baseball or how to keep Susie away from boys forever, we couldn’t fast-forward that far. Because we didn’t know.
Each day, we’ve just been living in wonder.
Here’s the thing: there is more than one way to skin this cat (i.e. colored cakes, pink or blue balloons released into the Ozone, etc.) but when it comes down to it, we tend to be old-fashioned, traditional, sticks-in-the-mud when it comes to things like this. We didn’t see each other before I walked down the aisle and yes, it added a bit more stress to the day, but that moment is not one I would trade for anything. And yes, even though I imagine planning for Peanut would be a bit easier if we knew the gender and could leap head-first into themes and colors and Pinterest, I got to thinking about something yesterday during prenatal yoga. [Sidenote: I think a lot during yoga. The whole “quieting your mind” part of it is totally lost on me. All I want to do it whisper to the gal next to me, “So, have you grown out of your underwear yet? Crazy, huh?” when I should be deep in Savasana. So, these are the things I think about. Namaste.]
Suddenly, the image came into my mind of That Moment. That moment Kenny meets his son or daughter for the first time. That moment we all introduce ourselves to one another, having prepared the best we could but still left that last bit of wonder alive ’til that kiddo is placed in our arms. “Nice to meet you,” we would say. And the announcement could be made to the loved ones pacing/sleeping in the waiting room- it’s a ___! Fireworks. Trumpets. Angels. [Okay, I doubt the hospital would permit fireworks. But the other two- but no one can stop an angel. Or trumpeteer.]
Unconventional these days? Maybe. But just ask the Sexiest Man Alive and the most talked about former Bachelor. There’s something about it. And though I’ve been on the fence now and again over the last few weeks, with registry questions and craft ideas everywhere I turn that would come together so much easier if we just knew, I can’t wait for that moment. I don’t want to begin forming who Peanut will be before I’ve met him/her myself and they can show me.
“Welcome, little one. Let’s do this together.”