My due date is set for next week, and I still don’t know whether I’m having a boy or a girl. My husband and I always enjoyed the surprise of not knowing the gender of our children beforehand. This will be my third go-around, and I am beyond excited for the delivery and finding out along with my husband.
For us, the moment is indescribable. While riding the emotional wave of delivery and seeing our child for the first time, I get to watch my husband hold our newest family member and announce whether we are new parents of a son or daughter. For my husband and I, this special experience includes waiting until that moment to find out what the gender is. Although this isn’t ideal for everyone, it is for us.
Not everyone is able to be in the dark when it comes to finding the sex out – in fact, I don’t come across many people nowadays that decide to wait. I completely understand. You want to plan, buy clothes, and decorate. Nine months is a long time to wait. Believe me, I know. Adding up my three pregnancies, I will have waited approximately 27 months in total not knowing the gender of the child growing inside my uterus.
Every time I cross paths with someone – who most often is a stranger – an interrogation starts. Everything and anything related to my pregnancy seems to be fair game.
The first question usually is, “Boy or girl?” No, “Hi. How are you doing.” No bullsh*t or beating around the bush. When I respond with, “I don’t know. My husband and I are waiting until delivery,” their reactions differ slightly, but always boils down to me being crazy. One person actually did call me crazy and proceeded to tell me I was lucky she wasn’t planning me a baby shower. Yes, I am very lucky, indeed.
“Today, I was told I was having a girl because I’m both round and wide. I was also told by a different person that I was having a boy for the exact same reasons.”
After these random people basically tell me I’m a lunatic for not choosing to find out the gender and thus be in unison with what they would do in my situation, they continue this torturous encounter by inspecting my body to tell me what I’m having. Today, I was told I was having a girl because I’m both round and wide. I was also told by a different person that I was having a boy for the exact same reasons.
At the grocery store, the checkout lady told me I was having a girl because you can’t tell I’m pregnant from behind. Thanks for the compliment? A mom at the park told me I was having a boy because I was carrying low. After telling her how I carried high with my two previous pregnancies and both were boys, she continued to stand by her assumption.
Sometimes I get deeper questions related to my pregnancy symptoms to better decide the sex, as if my physical appearance isn’t enough for this guessing game. My neighbor told me if I’m tired, it’s a girl. Of course I’m tired! I’m growing a human being and running after two toddler boys all day every day.
A woman at the pool asked me about my skin and how it has been affected by the pregnancy. She then informs me that the presence of acne and blemishes indicate a girl. It took me a minute to figure out how to best reply. All I could think about is her examining my skin and her thoughts on whether or not my current skin condition is good. Thanks for the boost in self-confidence. How appropriate when I’m at a pool surrounded by bodies that looked as though they never birthed a human being while I’m unbelievably uncomfortable, hot, bloated, and feeling larger than life. Awesome.
Why do people care so damn much? Mind you, I don’t even know these people. Similar conversations may be normal with friends and family, but not the guy pumping gas next to me at the gas station. What happened to following rules of socially acceptable conversation in situations like these? Will you think of me and my baby differently if you knew whether it was a boy or a girl? Would knowing the gender affect anything about our conversation – which to be honest, I don’t even want to participate in, but feel obligated to answer your questions and go through this third degree. Even if you did guess correctly, you would never know because (if I’m lucky) we will never cross paths again.
What’s even more bold is when people find out I have two other boys and wish for me to have a girl, or better yet, they presume I want a girl over a boy. Let me get this straight: if I have another boy, you will be sad and potentially pity me? Wait, what? I love my boys so damn much and wouldn’t change anything for the world. Growing up in a household of one of three girls, I gladly welcomed my two boys and wasn’t “disappointed” in the least.
I can understand some people’s wishes for a specific gender. To each their own. Everyone has their own reasons, but I wouldn’t assume one way or another, especially when it’s someone I don’t know. Everyone is different.
The only advice I can give people when deciding to approach a pregnant lady and ask her invasive questions is don’t. If you still feel compelled to do so, think before you talk.