BOY!

R, H, and I are all stoked about having another boy.  I know how to handle a boy and it just seems like another boy will be the perfect fit for our family.  Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with a girl, for a variety of reasons, so it’s really best that we have another little guy.  Of course, it means I have to modify some of the things I say to H.  For instance, instead of tucking him in at night and telling him that he’s my favorite boy, I now have to say that he’s my favorite big boy.  His little brother will be my favorite little boy.  I think that works.

The reactions we have gotten have been weird.  A lot of people react with consolation, as in “Oh well, it’s OK, there’s lots of things that are great about having two of the same sex!” and they smile reassuringly.  Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that it was supposed to be ideal to have one of each.  I grew up with a little brother, who I adore and love very much today—but believe me, when we were siblings living under the same roof, we got on each other’s last nerve.  We didn’t engage in shared activities, we didn’t have overlapping circles of friends, and we didn’t even really talk that much.  We don’t talk much now, but the difference is that we genuinely love and respect each other now.  I would do anything for my brother now.  But when we were kids…..well, let’s just say that having a boy and a girl is not the ideal that so many people make it out to be.  Not that having two boys will guarantee that they are buddies either, but I also don’t think that having two of the same sex is automatic cause for consoling someone.  It’s kind of rude to do that, actually.

R’s family is ALL boys. R is the oldest of 3 boys.  R’s middle brother has 2 boys.  And now we have 2 boys.  I know that everyone was probably stifling their disappointment over it, but fuck it.  It’s my kid and he’s awesome, penis and all!

I had H deliver the news to my parents over the phone.  But when H called them, he exclaimed, “I’m going to have a little brother or sister!!”  My parents heard “sister” and were laughing and cheering (“Yay!  A sister!!”), at which point I had to grab the phone from H and correct them:  “No, he’s having a little brother.”

“Oh, a brother!  Ok!”

It wasn’t their fault how their reaction came across, and they certainly didn’t intend any disrespect or anything.  It was just one of those situations where the communication kind of fell apart in a big way.  Still, because of how the conversation unfolded, I detected their disappointment, and it made me feel pretty upset.

I have to say that not finding out the sex with Holden was WAY better, because we didn’t have to go through the bullshit of dealing with other people’s reactions over the sex.  It allowed the pregnancy to feel more private and for me to feel more in control.  I don’t like having to listen to people’s feelings about something that I can’t change.  So, I guess I do wish we hadn’t found out ahead of time with this one.  Finding out hasn’t made me feel more connected to the pregnancy, and if anything, it’s spiraled me into even more of a funk because I have to engage in all of these ridiculous conversations with people.

As time has gone on, I’ve felt less connected to this pregnancy instead of more.  I don’t know why.  I felt awesome during my pregnancy with Holden—very healthy and stable and self-assured.  I don’t feel that way this time at all.  I feel like I am going to cry pretty much at all hours of the day.  I don’t have a lot of energy.  Once or twice a week I still feel queasy and icky.  I dread what things are going to be like when he gets here.  Is that awful to say?  Probably.  It certainly makes me feel guilty to think it.  I started writing privately (away from this blog), so I could be free to say all of the crazy shit that crosses my mind.  I’m trying to figure out what is wrong with me so that I can fix it.  I bristle at pretty much everything that other people have to say—I can’t take anything in stride.  It’s making me want to cut myself off from everyone and everything.  It’s difficult for me to be around anyone socially right now because nearly everything people say makes me feel judged and inadequate.  I feel like no one understands what is going through my head, and that no one can see that I am having a very rough time.  But if someone were to say to me “I know EXACTLY what you’re going through,” I’d probably deck them on the spot.  How could they possibly know that?  They can’t.

Objectively, there is no reason for me to feel so terrible.  Baby is healthy, I am physically healthy, R is doing well, etc., but still, there are all sorts of things swimming through my head that make me feel dread.  I feel like I have no control over my life, and that I’m just acting out some script that was written by someone else.

Don’t comment on this.  You don’t understand it.  I won’t feel better if you say something to me—I’ll feel worse.

I’m going to continue my private writing, I’m going to do my yoga, try to drink more fluids, try to get those vitamins down.  I’m going to do things with H and pretend that I’m OK.  I’m going to go cross-country skiing this winter.  I’m going to hope that these feelings go away.