Way back when, in mid December we took a week’s holiday to celebrate Miss Elma’s very first birthday in style. Elma herself had been fighting a bit of a bug, and when I kept finding myself feeling suddenly and spectacularly nauseous in the late afternoon, and then alternating that with a crashing need to take a nap at all possible opportunities I chalked it up to a little baby germ warfare.
“No, it’s probably morning sickness!” teased H.
I glared back from where I lay on the floor groaning;
“Don’t be daft – (a) I really don’t think I’m pregnant and (b) it’s far too early for morning sickness even if I were!”
I closed my eyes and returned to my snooze.
Two days before Christmas, I sat holding what was undeniably a very positive pregnancy test. Ah. I’d only taken the test to double check that I was good to put the festive bubbly on ice. Better put it back in the cupboard for next year then.
We’ve always known that we wanted a big family; we’ve never put an exact number on it, preferring to go one baby at a time, but we knew once Elma arrived that we weren’t done at two, and that if we could (because nature has a funny way of laughing at your plans) we would like another child.
With two gorgeous little girls running around our house it’s not surprising that a lot of our friends and family’s reactions have run along the “trying for a boy?!” line, although one of H’s friends takes the grand prize for asking in genuine bafflement, “Don’t you have enough children?” To which my lovely husband simply responded “No”.
And that could just as easily apply to the baby boy question; we really don’t mind. In fact my only wish is that I get to give birth to a baby, that I get to take home from the hospital, in a car seat.
H thinks we’re having another girl, but then he was convinced Kitty was going to be a boy; Kitty herself thinks it’s going to be a baby sister, who we’re apparently going to call Baby Pinky (she’s not going to get naming privileges), and she was right both about her sister and her cousin; and as for me, well I think I can just as easily imagine the fun we’d have with three little sisters scampering about as I can a tiny little brother, petted and adored, and then totally bossed around by his big sisters.
And Elma – well she just thinks the bump is a comfy seat!
One of us is probably right. And whoever he or she turns out to be, we already love them to the end of the universe and back, and just a little bit more.