by Alexis Novak

As far as I can tell, there are only really two types of parents; the ones that find out the sex of their baby and the ones that want a big “surprise” in the delivery room. I subscribe to Team Finding Out, which is still a surprise, just earlier, and allows you to mentally and physically prep for that little booger to enter your universe. The teensy problem is that my husband’s on Team Grand Surprise. And since I am a woman that hails from a family of lawyers, I think it’s smart to negotiate with him on the finding out procedure for a future pregnancy now, before I’m actually pregnant again.

I’m losing ground in this household debate however, because my team already won. Twice. And I have a husband yelling “technical!”*

My first pregnancy I wanted a girl. I dreamed of pink from the moment I saw the two little ept lines ‘til week 20 when it was confirmed my hunch was right. I was elated! I ran out that day and bought a newborn-sized fuchsia tutu from Gymboree. For reals.

The second time we had a well-meaning plan of not finding out (hey, fair is fair), which meant I was going to find out, not tell a solitary soul, and it would still be a big surprise for my husband on game day.

Here is how the 20 week appointment went. He left the room so the tech could tell only me. She confirmed what I already thought- another girl! Sisters! He came back in the room and I made my face stoic, emotionless. I tried to focus on boring things like my grocery list instead of succumbing to the thought that was leaping and dancing in my head- matching pink tutus! Problem was he knew that I thought I was carrying another girl so as soon as we entered the next exam room, he said all huffy-puffy, “I know it’s a girl because you have a gloating look on your face!” I told him to chill. That I was neither going to confirm or deny his conjecture; he didn’t want to know so I wasn’t going to spill. Hours went by. Later that evening I was reading. He came in and stared at me for a long time. I ignored him, sensing what was coming. “Just tell me. I know it’s a girl. Just say it.” I told him that I wouldn’t give any hints either way; that I was honestly trying to honor his wishes. This tug of war literally went on for four days. I tried to keep to myself, not make eye contact. No quick movements. I was over him following me around the house and giving me the evil eye. His nagging was wearing me down. So finally, one last time he begged for it, “I know it’s a girl, just tell me!” “Fine”, I said, “YES, it’s a GIRL, OK?” And then this look of horror flashed across his face like he really didn’t want to know and couldn’t believe I told him. (And men think women are crazy).

Now, while it seems like my husband should really truly get his way this future third time around, I have to say I’m not sold this time either. Because deep down he probably would really like a son and how will the surprise go if he’s secretly hoping for a little man to throw a football with and then another tutu-wearer emerges from my womb? Surprise! And our girls would love to know early if they are having a brother or sister. We could talk names, paint the nursery accordingly, include them in all the fun planning; they can be Team Baby. I especially want one of those trendy gender cake reveal parties, where you slice in and then your family squeals in delight, “Pink cake!” or “Blue cake!” But most importantly, if I have to balloon to the size of a wildebeest, don’t I deserve to to know what’s growing inside me? Moms’ rules rule, right? Or am I depriving myself and my husband of the biggest and coolest surprise nature ever intended?

Did you and your spouse agree on the finding out? If not, who got their way and how was it decided? Do tell.

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Written by Alexis Novak • 4 Comments