I have noticed something from
day one. This pregnancy has been different. Every ounce of my creative energy has been used up making this baby inside me. I haven’t been able to blog, cook, exercise, sleep… Pretty much anything but eat. I wondered why this pregnancy was so different. A LOT more nausea, headaches (literally) and double the fatigue…
It’s a BOY!
And apparently, at least for me, growing a boy is double work (but double the fun).
I am not complaining. Really. Ask my husband. THIS is nothing. HE hears the REAL complaining! 😉
But I simply was surprised by how much wind has been taken out of my sails. Little projects around the house have gone undone. My 1st grader’s homeschool has been scatter shot and we now know every fast food restaurant’s menu by heart.
This little peanut has been an elephant of a pregnancy!
Speaking of little “peanut,” somehow, peanut is the physiological terminology that my 3 year old daughter insists upon for boys’ private parts.
I have taught my kids both a certain amount of correct anatomy (and hopefully some tact and discretion), but we cannot change how Lydia refers to “what the baby has” that differs from girl babies. It is very cute. And very funny. At least to our family.
So, we have a little peanut.
My husband would probably like me to clarify that obviously, since the sonogram technician had NO difficulty deciphering this baby’s gender, that “little” should definitely not be an appropriate adjective for HIS son.
Son. I can’t believe it.
We’re having a son.
How different will this be? I remember looking across the breakfast table in awe at the “difference” my little brother Jonathan brought to our family. When we were little, my sister and I could play prim and proper princesses, blocks, sandbox, cars, whatever. But we had no inkling or desire to play “war” or “guns” or “fighting games.” My parents never bought our little brother a toy gun. And they didn’t need to. By age 4 he would chew his breakfast toast into the form of a gun and shoot us sisters. He was so…. foreign. Different hormones. Different play. Different everything.
I guess that’s good. I married “different” and I’m GLAD. When I look at my husband enjoying football on tv and it is sooooo boring to me and the “complex” plays just look like a bunch of potato farmers (no offense meant to the Idaho farming community) running into each other, it just seems so foreign to me… and then I realize that this difference is what attracted me to him in the first place.
My husband is cute like that. My little brother was cute with his toast gun. And now I get to enjoy the cuteness and difference of boys, firsthand, with this little baby.
And he IS really cute. I saw his four-D face … Which first made him look like a marsh monster. And after they computer-generated his form out of the muddy stage and took a less monster-like still shot, I saw: he’s ours. He’s precious. And he looks like family. Familiar and yet so foreign.
I can’t wait to hold him. I love him already. The little peanut.
And even though he has made his mommy double nauseous and double tired and this pregnancy has just felt so different… and even if as he grows up he chews his toast into the form of a gun and loves football in a way I will never understand, I’m so grateful for a son. And looking forward to more of an experience, that, so far, has been lovely, tiring and yet joyfully… different.