Rachel’s question in the post below has prompted me to open up the floor to other inquiries. If there’s anything you’ve ever wanted to know, now’s the time to ask. You can post your queries in the comments, or email me (aggieonboard at gmail dot com). I made that speshul for you just now. Smooches.
Even if you only care a smidge, please toss a crumb of a question my way. Bolster my self confidence in ways that my new flabby pancake belly never will.
I’ll go ahead and answer Rachel’s question, because I know you won’t be able to sleep peacefully until I do. Rachel asks: What made you decide not to find out Andrew was a boy until he was born?
Actually, it wasn’t my decision at all. Mr. Aggie is normally quite passive and accepting of whatever ridiculous whim I’m indulging at a given moment. I assumed we’d find out the sex because everyone does, and because I’d have plenty of time to procure gender-specific baby gear. He was aghast at the suggestion, and I turned out to be pretty easy to convince. For one, he rarely asserts himself so when he does, I listen. Not to mention, it was a chance to be different and–as those of you who remember my tri-colored hair in college and pierced eyebrow can attest–non-conformity me likey. Also, it turns out you really don’t need to know about your baby’s junk to get ready. I’m thankful now that we’re prepared for whatever bits our next bundle will bring, and that had he been a girl, we’d not have been drowning in PeptoPink. Blech.
I did spend many, many moments imagining the big reveal, but if you recall it was nothing like I pictured. Oh well, life goes on. And I almost forgot–it irritated my mom to no end that we didn’t find out, which was reward enough in itself.
