Why are people so interested in other people’s lives? Especially when it comes to the gender of an unborn child. Is it the amount of information we put out there? The power and connection of social media that brings us together and makes us feel closer – and, well, nosey?
Many of my friends are reaching the point in their pregnancy when they are finding out the gender of their unborn baby. Just last week I stayed up watching Facebook like a hawk to find out if a friend was having a boy or a girl – she already has three girls. They will be welcoming their fourth child, a baby boy, in May 2013.
Another friend went to her doctor’s appointment, had the doctor seal the gender reveal in an envelope and the family of three – they already have a daughter – plan to open it on Christmas morning. The suspense is killing me… And it’s not even my baby!
I’m anti surprises. I’m anti secrets and I’m a huge planner by nature.
I also have three boys.
Last week, it was my turn to find out. Sure I could’ve and probably should’ve waited a few more weeks, but again, I am anti surprises.
From what we could tell, it’s extremely likely our fourth child is another boy – a healthy little baby boy.
After crying for about five minutes, just as I had done each time before, I silently repeated these words over and over in my head:
Almost the same type of shock I felt when I became aware of this pregnancy.
My husband and I were hesitant about sharing the news. Not because we weren’t elated to learn we will be welcoming another beautiful life into our family, but because of the reactions from others. The same reactions that started when we were pregnant with our second son and continued through the birth (and well after) with our third son.
Are you sad you didn’t get your girl?
So while I’m guilty of being interested in other people’s family dynamics, I found myself to be sheltering mine. For I believe that everything happens for a reason and you’re only given what you can handle – no matter what others think or say.
Apparently, I can handle a lot of noise, excitement, love and joy because…
It’s another boy!
My oldest is 10.
When he’s not at home, he’s surrounded by kids much older and kids slightly more mature. He’s the youngest in his class and spends his free time with his older cousins and uncles.
Last year, I found myself doubting his belief in Santa, but ended up letting it go. I held onto that glimmer of hope that he, in fact, did believe. I carried on with the stories and traditions while making the most out of what I thought was his final year of writing wish list letter and setting out cookies and milk for the jolly old man.
There was talk about believing in the magic. There were questions about how he managed to do it all in one night. And then there were a few winks and nods when we talked about it around the younger boys.
And yet, I clung to hope and treasured his sweet innocence for a little while longer.
We have yet to talk much about this Christmas this year because we’ve been so consumed with Halloween and birthday parties for the past few months. But he is losing teeth left and right.
He lost another tooth three days ago. The Tooth Fairy forgot to come – and that wasn’t the first time she accidentally skipped this house. I made up some silly excuse about how she must be really busy this time of year and then wrote myself a note and quietly placed it at my bedside.
I made my way into his bedroom a few hours after he fell asleep. As I held my breath with the hopes he wouldn’t wake up, I silently cursed when I realized just how far under his pillow he placed the tooth. After what seemed like minutes, the tooth was found and successfully replaced with a baggie full of two, one-dollar bills.
As I went to bed, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s milking the system.
He woke up the next day beaming with excitement as he told me that the Tooth Fairy left him two whole dollars.
“For that little tooth? Wow!”, I said as I turned around with a smile.