Pink or Blue?

Well, it’s scan day tomorrow (technically today). I’ve stayed up finishing a report for my boss because I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. I don’t know if I’m excited or petrified of the outcome! Everyone has been asking me to let them know. Not if it is healthy, but whether it is pink or blue! I think we are so focused on finding out what we’re getting that we forget the main objective of this scan is to check for anomalies.

For me, tomorrow is either going to provide relief and show me that all the worrying and obsessing about there being an issue was silly, or it will confirm my worst fears. I feel like I am already bracing myself for the news of a faulty internal organ, or a missing limb.

Everyone asks if you have a preference – boy or girl? No-one asks if you have a preference over a heart or lung defect, or perhaps a bit of fluid on the brain. And I don’t believe anyone who says they don’t care as long as it is healthy. Of course we all want our babies to be healthy. I’d like this one to be a healthy girl that’s all šŸ˜‰.

I’m not trying to be controversial. I’m just being honest. Practically, a boy would be the better outcome. My youngest is a boy so better for him to have a playmate than my 10-year old daughter who only entertains her little brother under duress. If I were a betting girl, my money would be on boy – science says that’s more likely. Given that I took the morning after pill within hours of doing the deed I know this little one was fertilised by some pretty fast little swimmers, and the fast ones tend to be the boy-makers. But, if I could choose, it’d be a girl. Mainly for shallow reasons – I love pink, and I’ve got some cute ideas for a girly nursery!

That said, I think there may be a deeper reason why the gender is important to me. You see, I failed with my daughter; my first born. When she arrived in the world, the last thing I wanted to do was look at her, let alone hold her. That feeling stuck around for 3 years whilst post-natal depression did everything ‘she’ could to tell me I wasn’t good enough (funny how I’ve always seen PND as a woman; a sniping, nasty bitch who stood in my shadow sneering at every move I made). I questioned whether I was ever capable of loving a child how you were meant to (aka how they do in the movies).

Then comes child number 2 – my boy. I never really thought I’d get on with a boy. I have no interest in boy stuff. But when my son was born my life changed forever. I connected with him the moment they laid him on my chest. I looked at his face and knew that I would never love another being as much as I loved him, for as long as I lived. I do love my daughter, but that was a relationship that took time to develop. My son had a headstart on her before he’d even let out his first cry.

So you see, I’m scared that if it is a boy I just won’t have enough love for him. But a girl? A girl would allow me a second chance.

Even writing that I feel stupid! The CBT does work after all! Logic says, “Hold on girl, you already had your second chance – your son. You’ve already redeemed yourself.” But that voice, the one that preys on every insecurity, she says “How many chances do you need to prove that you just aren’t good enough?”

A few weeks ago I’d have believed her. I guess I’m not completely convinced that I don’t. But I will not allow her to drag me down again. I am good enough. Maybe only just good enough, but good enough all the same. So let’s just wait and see what 8:30am brings shall we. Maybe life will teach me a lesson and this one will keep its legs crossed! Make me realise that not everything in life is within our control…

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