Last Friday we went for Fliss‘ second scan to check that the baby was in good health, had all its limbs, organs – all that kind of thing. This is usually when you find out what sex it is, assuming you want to know.
We did want to know. We’d been looking forward to finding out. Fliss especially, and me almost as much, as I figured that learning the sex of the baby would instantly unlock that previously untapped part of my brain that equips you for fatherhood.
The baby had other ideas, mostly revolving around comfort and shyness. What other reason would you have for crossing your legs during a medical examination? Me? I would cite shyness as a very good reason, so I’ll give my future son/daughter a pass on this one.
Despite the best efforts of Fliss and the baby scanner lady, prodding away at her belly (Fliss‘ belly, not the baby scanner lady’s) in order to get some movement, the baby wasn’t giving away anything.
So that’s that – now we have to wait until the tail end of December to see what we’re getting. Almost fitting, really.
