When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I didn't want to know the gender. I was adamant. So was my husband. We wanted to be surprised. For us, it was simple: I didn't want to pigeonhole my kid into a gender specific way of being from birth. Baby R would be a baby. Period. Knowing the sex isn't what concerned us most. Because my pregnancy was so difficult, all I cared about was if the kid was going to be healthy. But we had no idea how folks were so obsessed with finding out. They didn't understand why we didn't care. They wanted to know what names we picked out even though we told them we had names for both boys and girls (aka unisex names). Why wasn't the room going to be pink or blue? Why did I not want pink at all?(for the record, I hate pink!) They didn't wanna buy us gifts (even though we had a comprehensive registry that was gender neutral and full of good basic items) unless they knew the gender. It was frustrating. Look, a baby is a baby. Onsies ...
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I am 30. I am divorced. I'm in debt. I sold my still new house I have no car. I hate my job. I still don't have my Ph.D. I never had children with my ex husband. I've never been pregnant or had a real scare. I’m not dating anyone and don’t have any real prospects ...yet and still... I want to have a baby. All around me...friends are getting pregnant or working on baby #1...or even #2. I'm so happy and overjoyed for them. Honestly...I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I just sold my house (which had plenty of room for children). I am getting out of a marriage and dating again. I am trying to get my finances in order. I am trying to lose more weight and obtain some goals. But something about me pains for a child of my own. I feel like there is hole in my heart.... I had resolved myself to adopt or even be a fantastic step mother (if I were to ever get married again). I mean...years ago I had resolved to not even be a mother at all...and as my marriage went south....