Friday, January 13, 2012

Sixteen Week Preggo Ramblings!

I had my sixteen week appointment yesterday. The sixteen week appointment is the most uneventful of them all; I jumped on the scale (I've only gained six pounds in eight weeks!), had my blood pressure taken (beautifully low), peed into a cup (I really filled that cup up), and then listened to the baby's heartbeat (reading came out in the mid-150s). And then I was off, thrown back into the snow storm to make the slow drive home while I thought about my next appointment, THE most eventful appointment of them all- the 20 week one where I find out the baby's gender.

Is it a boy? Is it a girl? Is it a boyish girl? I am convinced that the baby is a girl. This could be a sort of wonderful thing, as I'm pretty sure I'm only having two kids, and it might be nice to have one of each. That being said- jeez, how super convenient would another boy be? They could share EVERYTHING- a room, clothes, video games, girlfriends, fake IDs, sports cups, etc. In our modest three bedroom home, a boy would be the ideal gender. Chris could keep his office, the boys could bunk, and we could pretend for a couple years that we're choosing to keep living in our home and are not stuck there due to our current housing crash crisis. Also, I like having a boy. So it stands to reason that I'd like having two boys. I am not especially girly (i.e., not girly at all), and being a mom of boys just feels right. Like pajamas straight out of the dryer. Or extra cheese on just about anything.

But, despite the fact that Chris would lose his only sanctuary in the house (and the place where he legitimately works when he's not playing Words With Friends [which I think should be called Words With Ex-Friends] or shooting dragons in his latest video game), I get the feeling that he really wants a girl. Mostly because he's said so. He wants a little princess to be the daddy hero to. Underneath his hard, garlic toast exterior is a soft, cinnamon roll interior that really just wants a little girl to spoil.

Anyone else really wanting some garlic toast right about now?


Anyway, either way, it really doesn't matter, as long as the baby's healthy, yada yada.

While we're on the topic, there's something that's been bothering me lately. I'm not feeling as "into" this pregnancy as my previous one. I'm not as excited or anxious or tuned in to what I've got going on in there. Perhaps this is a somewhat universal feeling among second time moms. We become pregnancy professionals after our first successful run at it and don't feel as engrossed by the newness of it. However, I'm still alarmed by my lack of- shall we say, interest- in all of this. I have to admit, I'm a little fearful of how that's going to translate into what I'll feel when this baby is born. I was head over heels in an instant after holding Andy for the first time. I fell in love more deeply and fully than I even know I was capable of.

Horrible question- but is it going to be possible to feel that same way about the second?

Logically, I know that I will, and that I will love this new baby just as fiercely as I love Andy. I know that in six months, I'm going to have written countless blog entries about how New Baby hung the moon, how I'm just so full of love for both my children, how amazingly wonderful everything is, and so forth until we all feel like barfing. That's pretty much the only reason why I'm comfortable sharing this fear in the first place.

Quick, change of topic. Here is a list of creatures that Andy calls Mama:

Me (actual Mama)
Elmo (a male muppet, no relation to us)
Mickey Mouse (another male, a cartoon character, and a rodent that I'd probably kill if I saw in my kitchen)

There you have it. Elmo and Mickey have been elevated to the same status as Mother. And they've never once offered to change a diaper.

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