Last night alone felt like one hundred Christmas Eves. I couldn’t sleep. I probably squeezed in 3 solid hours and two really shaky ones. At 6:30 AM I finally decided to surrender and simply succumb to thought.
Even right now I am unable to relax; this might be the last couple of hours I have left during my pregnancy to imagine a life with both a son and a daughter. What will he look like? How will she act once she’s 15 and angry with me? Will he be nerdy? Will he like cars and girls or video games and computers? Will she detest pink and play soccer? Will she draw pictures of skulls on her brown bag covered text books? Will he have freckles like his father and me? Will he hate them? Will she shudder over bras and periods, her awkward teenager years, and hips? Will he pick on us for leaving New York City and moving someplace lame and boring? Will she?
At 11:30 AM today Tobyjoe and I hope to find out whether we’re having a boy or a girl. I can’t imagine not knowing for another 4.5 months. I simply must know. Who are you, little one?
(See comments section to read how it went.)