J and I have decided to test our patience and wait until the baby is born to find out if we are having a boy or a girl. We both agree that life has too few true surprises anymore, and this is one that we'd like to enjoy.
A lot of moms seem to possess some kind of intuitive sense as to what gender baby they are carrying. Unfortunately, I really haven't had any overwhelming feelings one way or another.
Right after I found out I was pregnant, I thought "boy". But then I kind of chalked that up to my tendency to envision things in a way that--I don't want to say I hope they won't turn out--but let's just say they just make the cutest baby clothes for girls and also I am slightly terrified of dealing with miniature male, ahem, parts, and so yeah, I'll just say it, I just was kind of hoping that my first would be a girl. Familiar territory, as my baby sister was born when I was 12 and I never had any brothers. So basically I sort of squelched that first thought that I was carrying a boy, and all it took was a dream involving a big bunch of pink balloons to convince myself that my mother's intuition was saying "yes, it's a girl."
The Chinese Gender Predictor says it will be a girl. I'm also told that having a sweet tooth during pregnancy says girl, but I always have a sweet tooth so what does that really mean? Then there's the old wives tale about the heartbeat--faster rates for girls, slower for boys. (You can imagine what I, a trained scientist, *actually* think about all these prediction methods). Incidentally, according to all these methods I'm having a girl.
Well, really I just have no idea what to think. So, I've decided to go with a more accurate predictor: J's Uncle Butch. Uncle Butch told me that he is 95% accurate in predicting baby genders. I mean, do I really need more evidence than his word on this? So I let him lay hands on the old belly and he has proclaimed that we're having a boy.
I am now mentally preparing for having to clean poop from strange folds and crevices, for getting peed on during diaper changes, and for many years of trying to keep the kid from imitating his father's fart jokes and temper tantrums. On the upside, a boy will probably be more fun to hunt for bugs under rocks with.
Anyone want to place a bet?