Come this March InshaAllah, Khalid will be turning two years old. Scheduled to arrive on the exact date of his birth is what will either be:
The best birthday present ever
-or-
The worst birthday present ever
Khalid doesn’t know it yet, but he’s expecting a baby brother or sister. Alhamdulillah. 🙂 We don’t know what it is yet, apart from shy. I’m 25 weeks along (that’s out of 40 max, and 37 is considered full term, just in case you were wondering) and growing increasingly frustrated by this kid’s refusal to give up the secret of his/her gender. Khalid was a boy-flavored jellybean. This one’s a Mystery Bean.
People keep insisting that we actually know but are refusing to tell anyone, which is a bizarre accusation considering that when we found out with Khalid, we told the entire world what we were expecting and what his name was, months before he was born. Also, Baby Shop and Mothercare just had National Day sales, and I couldn’t buy anything gender specific because I don’t know any specific gender! We’ve gone twice to find out the baby’s gender, and the first time he/she wouldn’t stop kicking, and the second time he/she was facing the wrong way with legs crossed. If this goes on much longer I’m going to rush out and buy tons of frilly pink things and if Mystery Bean turns out to be a boy, he’ll have to wear them anyway because it’s his fault for being so difficult.
One woman I know, who says she correctly guessed the genders of all three of her children based on what type of clothes she felt like buying, insisted that if I thought about it hard enough I would know. “All you have to do is feel it,” she said, “What does this baby feel like?”
I shifted around a bit and told her it felt like a backache, which is the truest thing I can say. With Khalid, being pregnant was a time of anticipation and excitement. With Mystery Bean, pregnancy is a time of chasing Khalid, taking the inedible/dangerous object out of his mouth and then trying to get back to work before he finds something else to taste/gnaw/take apart and eat.
Also, because I don’t know the baby’s gender and therefore don’t have a name for it, I find myself referring to him/her as… It. Which is weird. I don’t feel connected to this child the way I did to Khalid, and I’m really hoping we’re able to find the gender out at the next visit so I can pick the backache out a name, an imaginary face, and some frilly pink rompers the next time I go shopping. :p
For variety’s sake, we’re hoping it’s a girl. HF is preemptively referring to this baby as a she, and I keep cautioning him that if he gets his heart set on a girl-bean when we’re actually having another little boy, he’s going to give Son Number 2 an identity crisis. I mean, it’ll be bad enough that he’s wearing pink dresses, the least his father can do is refer to him by the right gender, sheesh! :p
Please remember us in your duas, I’m still struggling through the flu and need all the help I can get.
Peace & Chikken Grease!
-Abez & Co.
