Tue 5 Jul 2011
Mr. W has been going around introducing people to “Allison” already. I’ve had greetings aimed at my stomach. My mom asked if he was disappointed, and without hesitation, he said “no” with a big smile. I kinda believe him. In the car coming home from the gender-revealing appointment, he had looked over with affection and patted my knee a few times, and I know he was thinking about his upcoming daughter. Back before we had decided on the method of conception, and before it was confirmed that Mr. W was still producing live sperm, we had considered alternative methods of bringing forth a child. I didn’t want to get too hopeful that Mr. W could genetically father anyone at that point, so I pretty much made myself okay with the probability that the child would come from donor sperm. I had already talked way back in the blog about how his Gamer Bro had generously agreed to donate his swimmers, which was something Mr. W had discussed with him hypothetically out of my presence. Mr. W saw it as a way to at least “keep it in the family.” But I didn’t like that idea so much because I think it would really confuse relationships and identities of too many people later on for the kid. I liked the idea of an anonymous sperm bank donor, because there are so many genetic tests and background checks done on these donors and their “product” that I would be pretty much guaranteed better DNA (or at least, more defined DNA) than if I were to haul some guy in and offer up his goods to the fertility doctor. It wouldn’t be hard to beat Mr. W’s genetics, I’d told myself, considering I can screen out people with a family history of heart disease, high cholesterol, hypertension, etc. But it’d be hard to beat Mr. W’s looks. =P Seeing how Mr. W has responded so far to this pregnancy, how he’d light up when he saw my stomach (up 8 lbs now), how he spoke of Allison, how he’d gently pat the bump when I went to bother him when he’s on the computer, and then turn to smile at me contentedly… I’m really glad I don’t have some random guy’s kid in here.
By the way, the name Allison (and Allie/Ally) appears to be quite the hit.
OH. Some people have asked how the stepkidlets are handling it. The stepson asks to see his dad’s iPad application that shows how big the baby is (life size) anytime he’s over, and had expressed his hopes that it be a boy. The stepdaughter was so excited that she called me the evening of my diagnostic ultrasound last Wednesday to ask for results. I told her it appears to be a girl, and she was SO excited she kept laughing into the phone and saying, “YES! Haha! I was telling people this is my LAST CHANCE to have a sister! Yay! Does [stepson] know? He was telling me that you guys find out the sex today.”
I said, “No, I was afraid to tell him. You can tell him so you can rub it in.”
She said, “Yay! Okay! Now I’m gonna go tell everyone I know!”
Later, the stepson texted his father.
“Grrr, I was hoping for a boy.”
Mr. W responded, “Well, it MIGHT be a boy…without a penis, scrotum, testicles, etc.”
Stepson texted back, “Well, in that case, I guess it’s better that it’s a girl.”
I can live with Allison.
Whew. Another potential disaster averted. 🙂
I always wonder how mommys to be feel when people talk to their tummy or touch it. But I do think it’s cute that Mr. W is such wonderful (no pun intended) with you! I can’t wait to see lil Alison!
I remember that was the #1 beef from a DA friend I had. She said total strangers would come rub her stomach and coo about how cute it is that she’s pregnant. She said, “I don’t know why people think that’s okay. It’s still my body!” I don’t like attention drawn to myself, so I don’t like looking pregnant, and so far, unless someone knows, it’s not that obvious (especially when I have a jacket on and I’m carrying a purse). Yes, I would find that invasive, but it hasn’t been a problem with me (yet).
allison? is that final? can’t wait to meet her, whatever her name will be!
i love how excited mr. w is. she is one lucky baby to have you two for parents 🙂
I don’t know…we’re still trying to learn a page out of your book on parenting. I’m just hoping she won’t be too badly scarred that she’ll want to write a book (or start a blog!) about how awful her childhood was one day.