On Friday afternoon, Adam navigated the boat back towards town after five days at the cabin (more on that later). As we skimmed across the lake, looking out at the sun reflecting on the choppy water, we eventually passed over that magic boundary that allowed us to start receiving cell phone reception again.
Within moments the 21st century welcomed us back into its arms with an orchestra of text notifications and email pings and the buzzing indicators of missed calls.
After parking the boat at the marina we stopped at a nearby restaurant and had lunch, and for all of our conversations we’d had while at the cabin about how nice it was to be cut off, free from interruptions and the Internet’s siren song, during lunch we were those people.
You know, THOSE people who sit through huge chunks of their meal not speaking, immersed instead in the tiny screens in front of them. For a while our silence was broken only by our contented munching, and small snippets of information traded back and forth as we red messages, caught up on emails and listened to voice mail.
Shortly I started noticing a pattern in mine. The first text I read was from my sister Lizzie, “You said DemonBaby was a SHE!” it read accusingly.
There were similar ones from friends, a few people left comments here too, “Are you having a girl?” Valerah asked.
Because I did indeed say she.
… I described it as a getaway, a time to celebrate three separate occasions – our third wedding anniversary, our tenth year together as a couple, and a sort of last hurrah before Demon baby makes her grand entrance into this world.
Sorry Internets, this was my bad. Demon Baby is not a girl. (Maybe). Not that I know of anyway. She could be! (Or not).
There won’t be any Gender Reveal parties on this blog. No pink or blue cupcakes, no opening of a box filled with pink or blue balloons, no handing of envelopes from ultrasound techs to cake bakers.
We’re not finding out either way.
I don’t know why exactly, I guess we wanted the surprise (almost as if suddenly having a tiny being to feed and care for won’t be surprise enough!) and also because of my sociology background I’m trying to stay out of the pink/blue quagmire for a few months at least.
So far it’s been funny hearing everyone’s predictions, especially since everyone I know (almost without exception) including the lady who did my nails when my friends were in town last week, has confidently declared it a boy. It hasn’t even been a question with my family, they have all just lapsed into saying “he” when referring to the baby.
Adam too thinks it’s a boy. Wants, desperately, for it to be a boy.
I’ve been the only dissenter so far. Well, sort of. Initially I had a very strong “girl” feeling. I would have bet my life on it. These days however, I don’t know whether the wave of blue coming at me from all directions has made me second-guess myself, or whether something has changed, but I don’t have a strong feeling either way any more.
I don’t have a preference. A baby girl will seem more familiar after helping to raise my sisters and will do a little to even out Adam’s side of the family as his sister has three boys already.
(And yes, okay lets just all admit that the clothing is better for little girls, okay? It just is. Especially getting into summer with sweet little sundresses and headbands and bathing suits and sandals and SQUEEEE!)
That said, when I imagine a baby boy it melts my heart. Especially thinking of a toddler looking back at me with Adam’s mischievous face as he dumps a jar of flour onto the floor, or mercilessly tugs Gus’s tail, or does any number of the evil things that I’m sure any son of Adam will do.
ANYWAY all of these words are meant to say that I must have lapsed into “she” when writing that post, and I’m sorry for getting everyone all excited.
No girl yet. No boy either.But give me another 95 days or so and I can give you a definite answer.
(Tangent: Does it bother anyone else that this whole thing is called a Gender Reveal as opposed to the more correct term, Sex Reveal? Because gender is culturally determined whereas sex speaks to certain immutable biological characteristics, and I mean what we’re really talking about at these things is “Does the baby have a penis or a vagina?” rather than “Will the baby display the culturally determined appropriate characteristics of its sex?” … right?
I mean, I get it. A “Sex Reveal” Party sounds way different [and, correct me if I’m wrong, way more fun] than a Gender Reveal Party. But still.
No? Just me? Cool, cool. Just checking.)