We are now just scant days from our u/s appointment. We are hoping to find out what the baby is although I am a bit freaked out about this. I am so desperately hoping that they'll say "it"s a girl" that I am telling myself (and everyone else) that it is a boy so I won't be too disappointed when they tell me it is a boy. Mr Bear has a brother and a sister. The brother has two boys, the sister, three. We have a son. The chances of it being a little pink baby are minimal, but I cling to the hope.
It si not that I don't want a boy. In reality I don't think that I particularly care all that much. This will be our last baby. I can't see us having more than two children. I am too old for one. I'd want another baby before 35. I just don't fancy being a mummy after 35. I know many women are. C from work is due any day now and she is 40, but I jsut can't see that for me. So, in essence, this is our last shot at a daughter.
I love Chickabid to bits and have never for one day regretted that he came with additional plumbing. And I know very well with this baby that I will not bemoan or regret it whether the baby comes with extra plumbing or not. But having a daughter means so many "extras". It means teaching her to knit, to embroider, it means sharing stories and histories...the things that boys don't tend to be much interested in. It means shopping for a formal gown when she finishes high school, wandering through aisles of rustly taffetas and lace, maybe planning a wedding one day, going shopping together, sharing being women together.
Recent Comments