When I asked for guest posts for over the summer I was over the moon when the lovely Pippa said “Yeah, I can come up with something” (or something along those lines). When Pippa isn’t heckling me on Twitter (you can find her here -but don’t encourage her) , Facebook or similar she is an award winning blogger (AMothersRamblings & PippaWorld) amongst other things, a social media tart and someone I’m very glad to know! Enjoy her post today, I’m sure it’ll strike a chord with more than one of you!
I haven’t got those bits!
When I was pregnant with my second child, my husband (flyfour) asked if we could find out the sex of the baby. I didn’t really want to, but after some discussion we agreed that we would find out the flavour as we could buy gender specific outfits and also see if we needed to work out another girl name (Flyfour said on our 3rd date, “By the way I have the names of our children worked out”). I was secretly hoping that the baby wouldn’t play ball and would refuse to give us a clear enough view but on the day there was Big Boy in all his glory and the lady doing the scan let us know that she was almost 100% certain that he would be a boy.
Flyfour was over the moon; his son was growing inside of me. Suddenly all the plans he had made for things he would do with his children were coming true (he always knew he would have one of each) and he couldn’t wait to meet the newest addition to our family. Me? Well, I was worried. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a boy or even that I wanted a girl it was just I don’t know how to raise boys. I’m a girl, I’m a sister to a girl. Boys have different bits and do different things and well, are boys!
I would talk out loud to my son and tell him all the things I had told Top Ender when I carried her. I told him about the family members, about what we would do when he was born, the places he would go, the people he would meet and that I hoped he would forgive me for worrying about how I was going to raise him, a boy.
I was worried that my son and I wouldn’t bond. I was worried that I might teach him something wrong. I was worried that I might miss something obvious because I wasn’t familiar with boy bits.
And then he was born.
Big Boy was put on to my chest and I looked at him and suddenly realised that it didn’t matter what sex my child was, the fact was he was my child and I would love him no matter what. Looking at him I felt a little stupid knowing that I had been so worried about something that wasn’t even an issue and I knew we were going to be alright.
It wasn’t until about a year later that I realised that for sure though.
Big Boy was poorly, he kept grabbing at his bits and crying and we were in the living room trying to let everyone else sleep. It was about 2am when I took off his nappy to see that something was wrong. So a quick call to the emergency doctors and off we went, just me and Big Boy, leaving at home a sleeping Flyfour and Top Ender. The doctor looked at him and declared something was wrong; an infection that was causing discomfort but nothing that couldn’t be treated with some cream and antibiotics.
I had known something was wrong, I didn’t need my own penis to work it out and I knew that now there was nothing that was going to stop me being a great mum to a little boy.
Flyfour can give him the talk about the birds and the bees when it’s time though!
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