Good Heavens, is it different the second time around!
Last weekend, in a fit of efficiency, I went shopping--rather early I thought--for some pregnancy clothes. I still have a fairly decent selection from last time, but some new trousers and a blouse or two was in order. I just tossed the bag into a corner, assuming I would get to it in a couple of weeks.
Then last week came which found me frantically searching through storage bins for the pregnancy clothes that I had not lovingly packed away those many months and months ago, but really just kind of shoved into an available space to await being needed again.
It would seem that I have great ligature memory. The same muscular and ligature predilection that allows me to do yoga once every blue moon with no ill-feelings in the morning has also allowed this baby to take over my lower torso in a land-speed record that would make Speed Racer say, "gosh." It's like my body went, "oh, I remember this, whoooosh!"
So, on Thursday last week I wore to work an ensemble that had not seen the light of day since '06 and immediately elicited comments that, indeed, I was gestating a little parasite.
But my rediscovered clothing needs aren't the only thing that is different this time around. There is also the presumptive attitude of well-wishers that now that we've had one child, we have an assumed preference for this child. It's like now that we've had the taste of one sexual identity vis-à-vis a toddler who has no sexual identity as of yet, we now can imagine what the next 20 years will be like and thus now would prefer either a girl or a boy.
It's like this whole pregnancy gig is a diner and I get to tell the short order cook: Adam & Eve on a raft, pair of Zepplins, a Blonde with Sand, and Squeeze One ... oh, and could you include a lot of testosterone, snaps, and snails, and puppy dog tails to go? Thanks. I say this because the going assumption, you know the one paying 3 to 1 odds, is that we want a boy this time around. What's even odder than the fact that Jason and I don't care is that people don't really seem to believe us that we don't care; or, at the very least, they seem disappointed that we don't proclaim a marked preference for one sex over the other. It isn't enough to want a healthy baby this time around, now we have to engage full-on in gender politics, in-utero.
What seems so puzzling to me is that, by this point the decision is made and it's just a matter of time to finding out who God gave us to shepherd. This baby already has the makings of everything, genes and family, that will shape who he will be (thought I'd throw all those gender-preferers a bone).