Yesterday was Morgan's 3rd birthday and also happened to be the day we found out whether she was getting a brother or sister. I didn't sleep very well Sunday night. I was nervous! And my ear still hurts. Because my left ear is trying to give me a slow painful death. Why was I nervous? Not really sure. Maybe because I know this is my last baby (I sure as heck am NOT doing this again...you women that are like 'ohhh I just LOOOVE being pregnant' must be on some hormone high that I've never experienced, because I hate every single second). Part of me really wants another girl...because I'm used to having a girl, and because I have about 54 totes of adorable girls clothing in storage, and because I always wanted a sister and ended up with 2 stinky brothers. But I felt guilty for wanting a girl. Just as I felt guilty when I found out I was having a girl when I was pregnant with Morgan, and I was DISAPPOINTED! Yes I originally wanted a boy, whatever was I thinking? And miss out on all this drama and moodiness, miss out on all these wonderful temper tantrums? Miss out on all the hair bows?! So when we found out we were having a girl, I was disappointed, and then I felt guilty for being disappointed. But don't worry, God punished me. Morgan barfed on me for well over a year after she was born. I had a healthy (barfy) baby girl and I was blessed.
So this time around...I felt guilty for wanting a girl.
I'm very complicated...I don't make my life easy, can you tell?
So yesterday morning at 10am we had our big ultrasound appointment. My heart was racing. Michael had that spark of excitement he usually only gets in his eye when a good ball game is on or when he sees his paycheck after working a ton of overtime. The ultrasound chick (yeah I can't remember her official title, sorry) drowned me in warm goopy stuff and then the show began. Up on the big screen was Deuce. And within about 5 seconds she announced 'oh I think it's a boy' and my heart sort of flipped. Then all of a sudden on the screen was Deuce displaying all of his boy junk for the world to see. 'Yep, I'm pretty sure that's a boy.' I think I said something along the lines of 'oh wow' but honestly what I was thinking was 'ewww...there's a BOY in there' because if you really think about it, it's sort of weird.
So...it's a BOY!
We went back to the waiting room because I had an appointment with the doctor, mostly to discuss my last round of blood work. While we were waiting, our phones were blowing up with texts from family and friends asking if we knew yet. We spent the next 5 hours texting, calling, emailing. It was a busy day!! Oh and by the way, my last round of blood work was fine. The antibody levels are still low. *air guitar*
I must say we've got some awesome friends for being interested in our boring lives. I felt very loved yesterday. EVERYBODY is excited it's a boy. My brothers are pumped...a nephew to drag through the woods, hunting and fishing and logging and raising chickens (or so they think). Michael's family is excited. A McCumbers heir! Out of all of the grandkids in his dad's large family, there are only 2 grandsons. Michael's cousin is thrilled that we took some of that pressure off him to bear a son.
Honestly, his family would have been happy if it was another girl, but Michael said he could just hear the relief in everyone's voice when he called and told his parents and grandma.
So we're having a boy, and I'm a little freaked out about it.
When I told my mom, she said 'awww I was hoping Morgan would have a sister to grow up with.' And I agree...to an extent, but like I told my mom, I really can't imagine life with 2 daughters, especially if they are both like Morgan. I think it would be a 70 year long cat fight, possibly to the death. Morgan is really feisty. So now she'll have a little brother to boss around and beat up. I had 2 of them to boss around and beat up...until they grew up and realized they were stronger than me and didn't have to listen to me anymore. That was a sad day.
I am hoping he will be laid back like Michael and not high strung like Morgan (and me...and the rest of my family). When I was pregnant with Morgan, her heart rate was always over 170. Most of her ultrasound pictures consisted of feet where she was kicking away from the ultrasound wand (it took tries to find out if she was a girl...she didn't cooperate the first time so we had to go back after 4 weeks). In early pregnancy, the doctor had to trap her in the corner to get her heart rate. She was always moving around, stomping my bladder, rubbing her head on my ribs (she was breech).
This baby has been much more mellow so far. His heart rate has never been over 150, and the doctor has never had to trap him to get the reading. He was so cooperate during the ultrasound...he was basically like 'ta da!!! here's my junk! I'm a boy!' and then he rolled over and yawned. He does move around A LOT so I wonder when he actually sleeps, but I have hopes this one will be more mellow than Morgan.
Dear Lord PLEASE.
So now I have to prepare myself for raising a boy. I'm used to changing girl diapers and giving a girl a bath. It's going to be weird learning how to clean and take care of a boy. And I know Morgan will be right beside me asking 'what's that?' every time he's naked. Sigh.
And the messes. I've been blessed with having a very clean little girl. When she eats, she's pretty OCD about staying clean, and I LOVE IT. If something falls off her plate she flips out and can't continue eating until all is right in the world, and the food has been cleaned off the table. If she drops food on her shirt, the shirt has to come off. She doesn't like messes. SHE IS MY CHILD 100%. She scared of bugs and frogs and all gross unfuzzy creatures and I'm okay with that!!! I have an extreme fear of frogs. You have no idea. And lizards. And snakes. And worms. And fish. And...basically anything that isn't cute and fuzzy and domesticated. I didn't mean to pass this on to my kid, but if there's a frog in the yard and I run screaming, she tends to pick up on these things. Why am I terrified of frogs? When I was about 2, my grandma held me down to a barrell that collected rainwater from her barn, there were frogs all around the rim and one of them jumped on me and scared the holy heck out of me. That and the fact that my mom (yes my mother) and my 2 stinky brothers used to chase me with frogs until I locked myself in the bathroom, and then they would shove the frog under the door and I would have to climb up on the sink and be locked in the bathroom WITH the frog. And then they would all laugh while I cried hysterically.
I need therapy for that.
So what if I have a son that drags frogs and lizards into my house? Not only will I have a panic attack, but I will have to fumigate my house.
And if he's a messy eater....*eye twitch*
My only salvation is to dress him in vests and hats and put him in dance lessons when he's 2...because Michael would totally support that ya know....
'snakes and snails and puppy dog tails...that's what little boys are made of' ....is that seriously how that poem goes?