He says, she says

After about two hours sleep, preceded by a mad rush packing and creating more mysterious packrat piles of paper in his office (on the floor I might add), S (the male S) was off to Vietnam this morning for one of his last ever baby-free jaunts. And he’s making the most of it: not even a laptop was on his to-take list and I can’t remember the last time that’s happened. I also can’t actually remember what he did carry with him as it was about 3:45 am when I – or we — stumbled out of bed to say goodbye.

So poor baby will have to miss out on being jiggled, raspberried and called to by dad for two weeks… And poor Mum will have to miss out on being pampered.

Dad will also miss out on getting more attuned to what sex he thinks baby is, though he’s unwavering from his conviction that it’s a he. Some details S missed in his post on the last scan: he wanted to find out! After being convinced from the start he wanted a surprise, he switches tack while I’m smeared in gel on my back and he’s standing watching the monitor with the doctor between us. I stood firm and the doctor seemed to think it was rather amusing. Either that or he was just laughing nervously hoping S wasn’t going to come ask him for the information alone later…

Though apparently he did slip up, according to S, mentioning during his baby tour (featuring a perfect little rib cage among other highlights) saying that that was “his thigh bone.” Um, doesn’t “its” sound a bit like “his”, especially when spoken in a heavy Indonesian accent? I’m still certain it’s a she… This obsessing about the sex despite being a bit ridiculous is surely rather healthy as it stops us obsessing about more scary stuff like the health, the labour, the first week, the first month, the first year…