I counted last night, and I currently know six people who are pregnant, including myself. That’s personally even! I don’t know many people, so that’s a big deal. Three of these ladies (girls?) are far enough along that they’ve already found out the genders of their babies. All three are having girls (or their little boys are anything but manly). Seriously, what are the odds of that? No, don’t tell me; I used to teach math, so I really can calculate it. But really? That discourages me.
I think most of you have heard already about my “gut” feeling that this new baby will be a boy. The truth is, though, that I’m convincing myself that’s what it is because I don’t want to be disappointed like last time. From the moment I believed that positive pregnancy test last time, I was one-hundred percent sure the baby was a girl. It wasn’t until the week before the “big” sonogram that I began to consider the possibility that our little girl had a penis. I was still shocked when the ultrasound tech pointed out PJ’s “boyness.” It took several weeks to adjust my expectations to include a little boy in our family instead of a little girl.
This time I want a daughter just as badly as last time, if not worse since this will probably be my last pregnancy. I can’t get my hopes up again only to be disappointed. But if I convince myself totally that this is a boy, it will be a nice surprise to find out it’s a girl and what I expected if it’s a boy.
Still, I’m nursing a hope deep down that this is a girl. Every time I hear somebody guess it’s a girl, I secretly hope they’re right and I’m wrong. It’s very discouraging to hear all my friends announce they’re expecting little girls. I’m jealous because I don’t dare hope for the same. I also feel like statistically they are ruining my chances for having a girl. I know things don’t work that way–we each have a 50-50 chance regardless of what everyone else has–but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.
Okay, total change in topic…Last week during a conversation with my mom, I was lamenting that my MIL has essentially excluded herself from our lives and that I can’t blog about the important things happening in our lives on the blog she knows about because of my MIL. My mom replied that I should be writing all these milestones down somewhere anyway, like in a journal of some sort. I gave some lame remark about his baby book and left it at that. Unwilling to leave it alone, my mom brainstormed the idea of starting another, totally anonymous blog to vent the stuff I can’t say on my main blog. I couldn’t lie to her; I confessed that such a blog already existed.
At first she was hurt that I’ve had a secret blog for months and never mentioned a word of it to her. I tell her just about everything, so I can see how that might upset her. Then she recognized the wisdom in keeping such a blog a total secret and forgave me. We changed topics, and I assumed the conversation was over, forgetting all about it.
We were chatting on the phone again just the other day, and she admitted that she hasn’t forgotten about the secret blog. She was tempted to google it based on the few things I mentioned about it. I doubt that she could have found it, but I don’t want her to feel like she has to go behind my back about it. I told her that if she finds herself about to google it to just ask me and I’ll give her the address. It’s just easier that way.
At the time, I couldn’t think of anything I’d written that might offend or surprise her, except maybe some subtle references to sex–not that those have happened much lately. Just to be sure, I read through some of my archives last night. Oops. I have several not-so-nice entries about my SIL. My mom doesn’t know how I feel about her, and as far as I know, my mom thinks the world of her. I can’t let her find out, especially not this way, that I think my SIL is a hypocrite. At the moment, she hasn’t asked for the address, and nothing will change as long as she doesn’t know. If that changes, however, some back-editing will take place. I will also have to be a little more careful about the current things I say. I’m not eager to edit my thoughts here, but that’s better than damaging my relationship with my mom.