Finding The Happy

Looking for joy in all the right places



About the blob

There are 11 of us in my mother’s group, and I’m number 10 of 11 to be pregnant with #2. (#11 is preggers too.) The first time ’round, we all had a pretty even split of boys and girls – 6 and 5 respectively.

But the second time ’round, everyone started getting boys. And the more boys we got as our Number Twos, the more we marvelled over the math. Because that’s like flipping a coin n number of times, and getting Heads n times in a row. That’s pretty spesh.

Which is why I think I’ve been suspecting that New Blob (for want of a better name) is going to be a Girl Blob. Law of averages and all that. Because what is the likelihood that there would be 10 little boys in a row, right?

Turns out, the probability is 0.0009765625.

Yes, we are proud and shiny to announce that New Blob is a Boy Blob! Which means we now have what Australians charmingly refer to as a Pigeon Pair – one of each. I should have known better than to trust my gut on this one, because the last time I hazarded a guess for Arddun, I was wrong too.

Our ultrasound technician this time has over 30 years’ experience, and was adamant about his sex. (“Definitely a boy. Loooots of photos of his penis.”) Except of course, all we saw were shadows amidst constantly moving legs, and had to take her word for it. I found myself laughing. At the math. At the fact that I know so very little about little boys. At the realisation that Arddun is going to be a big sister to a little brother. At the sheer and utter joy of knowing I am going to have a son. I have a son.

That was almost 2 weeks ago. A few things since then…

  • At my MIL’s clever suggestion, we have been gently reminding Arddun that the baby is her little brother. And that she is like Peppa Pig, about to have a little baby brother, George. Except that his name won’t be George, any more than her name is Peppa. It gets confusing for 3-year-olds.
  • Arddun still seems more thrilled about cats and dogs.
  • Because we are packing to move eventually – and to de-clutter the house so we can give the illusion of living splendidly organised lives during any open houses we might be giving in the near future – we have been sorting through Arddun’s baby clothes. Omigoodness, so gobsmackingly cute and tiny they are! And there are so many pieces I can never throw away because they were all from my mother. The trouble is… even though we had assiduously stayed away from Too Much Pinky Pink Pink clothes… Arddun’s clothes are still decidedly girly. We salvaged quite a few tights and socks and some tops, but the rest are going to good homes one day. IF I ever get my butt in gear to sell them at a Baby & Kids’ market.
  • We found a name for Boy Blob! Which just means we might change our minds a few times more before we actually meet Boy Blob. Which is why we aren’t telling anyone his name yet.
  • I bought my first piece of baby boy clothing… which turned out to be this cream onesie with a faux cotton Mandarin-collar shirt over the top. For $6! How not to buy???

Alive and kicking

Finally settled the Public vs Private debate in my head once we met the obstetrician, who

  • hails from East Timor (not Malaysia)
  • speaks very quickly when asked controversial questions (like what Calvary hospital’s policies are regarding the life of the mother vs the life of the child’s)
  • calms down more when asked about C-sections
  • isn’t a breastfeeding/natural-only/do-it-my-way-or-the-highway nazi with guilt-tripping midwives (score)
  • has a practical approach to pain management (and laughed at my question)
  • has checked his leave calendar and isn’t planning any holidays around birth time (w00t).

I think Tony was partially sheepish that I even had a list of ‘interview’ questions, but hey. Come D  day, and I’d like to know that there’s someone with a similar philosophy down at the business end while I’m in brain-numbing agony on the other. I don’t want to have to reason or beg or persuade or verbally business case our stance on things right on that day, because all I suspect I’ll be capable of doing is screaming “YOU’RE A QUUUUACK! QUUAAACK! GET ME A REAL DOCTOR!” if I find some decisions (or lack thereof) appalling. If I scenario-test him now, it feels like we’ve done our homework instead of feeling like it’s the right decision. And yes, I googled him.

So yeah, we’re comfortable now. Private it is.

Saw Blob on screen yesterday, and he or she was in fine kicking form. Just a flurry of activity, possibly because it was lunch time. Blob was waving quite a lot this time, and had also swum over to the other side, which made me feel like an aquarium. Heartbeat was strong. Reports came back great. Low probability of down syndrome. Hunky dory.

Texted both our mothers the update, and got the following responses:

  • “That’s great news. Wave back at him/her. :-)”
  • “Thats really good news. Hope u r planning to call it something other than blob.”

Here’s looking at you, kid

750ml of water (thereabouts), 3 tummy jiggles, 6 hip rotations, 1 deliberate cough, 2 visits to the toilet and 5 surreptitious lambada twirls later, you finally decided to roll over – stop mooning us – and settle down on your back so the nice ultrasound lady could take the following happy snap:

Blob at 13 weeks
Hand at your mouth, sorta waving...

Also, you’ve apparently time travelled and are now a whole week ahead. Which messes up mommy’s countdown timer something major.

You kick heaps. You have lovely long legs – you have both parents to thank for that. Your latest trick seems to be this hand-wave thing in front of your face. That’s good – practice for when you finally get out and realise the Australian sun shines freakishly bright. At this stage, you appear to have a flat nose. If that works out to be true come birth time, I do sincerely apologise. Your father has a magnificent grecian profile. I don’t.

You are alive, which is a relief considering how many people now know about you. You can fit in the palm of my hand, but for now I think you should just stay put and kick away. I made a lovely chicken and mushroom risotto for us tonight. I hope you like chilli.



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