Straight From the Bottle

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  • On the Eve of Knowing

     *UPDATED BELOW*

    I'm closing in on nineteen-weeks pregnant which means, tomorrow, during my ultrasound I will most likely find out the sex of my baby. I am not one for surprises. I have no patience in this life and can't help but obsess over ALL of life's little question-marks so, ho-HO! The sex I will know.

     

    "Do you have a preference," people often ask, which is one of those questions that makes me very uncomfortable, mainly because I don't know what I'm having yet. And I kind of just want to have whatever I'm having, you know? I prefer whatever is.

     

    "I'd like a boy or a girl," I usually say. And I would, both for very different reasons.

     

    When I was pregnant with Archer I absolutely had a preference. I wanted a son. I couldn't imagine myself mothering anything but boys, probably because socially I always felt more comfortable with boys and in a way, the thought of having a daughter scared me. In my experience, girls are, uh... more difficult than boys. I feel like I would have a hard time controlling a daughter mainly because I'm stll having a hard time trying to control my self.

     

    This pregnancy all my dreams have been daughter dreams, which doesn't exactly gel with my doctor's prediction that I'm pregnant with another boy. My 12-week ultrasound my doctor said he thought he might have seen a penis. He even said he was "80% sure you are having a boy" but for whatever reason, in every one of my dreams: girl. So now I'm just feeling very confused. I have no clue what this baby is. My subconscious, obviously thinks girl. My practical-self believes the doc and is going with boy. Tomorrow, of course, I'll know for sure.

     

    The last several weeks I've spent with friends who have daughters. I've helped their little girls get dressed. Played with their hair. Read them stories. And kind of in a way, hoped that maybe one day I could have that, too. That mother-daughter, girl on girl, slumber-party-in-barrettes thing. I honestly, for once saw myself mothering a daughter and being, well, not so bad at it.

     

    Reading to Fin

     

    Reading books with BMC's Foo in Portland

     

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About the Blogger

rebecca woolf

Rebecca Woolf in LA

Who says becoming a mom means succumbing to laser tattoo removal and moving to the suburbs? This young writer and mother of two gives it to you Straight From the Bottle.

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