The Father Moobs blogs were originally posted in 2014 and 2015 on fathermoobs.com, a now defunct website where Dani (my wife) and I processed the upcoming arrival of our first baby. This series was called Moob & Boob, where we each wrote our own perspective on the same topic:
I don’t want to find out the gender of our baby early. It feels like opening a Christmas present in July. Why would I do that? Yes I’m a control freak and a planner but some things seem too good to plan. Everyone I talk to that has waited has this little extra sparkle in their eyes as they recall the excitement of hearing the doctor proclaim for the first time, “Its a BOY!” or “Its’ a GIRL!” I want that bonus excitement too and somehow I don’t feel like I can get it from an ultrasound tech on a random Tuesday in my 2oth week.
I’ve also talked to people who found out early and most of them are glad they found. I think that’s great! It seems like personal preference to me. And if my preference is to wait it seems like I should go with that gut feeling right? I mean, Matt can find out if he wants, I don’t care if he knows and I don’t. Be he’s all weirded out by that idea. Dramatic mumbo-jumbo like “OMG I’ll die if I have to keep a secret that long!” I told him he’s a drama queen and our child better get’s his acting skills.
In case you didn’t know, Matt really wants to find out early. But his reasons suck. Maybe he could persuade me if he was like “I just want to be able to call our baby by name.” Or “it will be helpful with planning,” but those aren’t his reasons. He just goes on theoretical rants about how it’s inconsistent to utilize technology tools for health screenings while refusing that same technology to find out the gender. Capital L-A-M-E, LAME.
I’m fine with yellow and green bedding at the baby shower. And I’m fine when my baby girl is all decked out in Yankees apparel. Besides, I’m just starting to bond with this tiny blob in my belly and it’s just starting to feel like a little human. I’m not ready to give it a gender and a name. It seems like those bonding moments will be like icing on the cake for me – a sweet treat that comes at the end of the baking process, after the bun is out of the oven and cooled off for a little while.
Either way, this dilemma of whether or not to find out early is really not a big deal (#firstworldproblems). The baby will be the same gender at 20 weeks as it will be at 40 weeks. The most important thing is that it continues to grow and be healthy. So if someone wants to help Matt out and give him better reasons why we should find out early I’ll definitely entertain the idea. In the meantime I’m sticking to my guns and waiting it out with the confidence that for me, the wait will be worth it.
Why in the world would you not find out the sex of your baby!
This is is 2014. The technology is available!
I can’t imagine watching a doctor scope out MiniMoob’s genitals, learn such RELEVANT INFORMATION TO THE REST OF OUR LIVES, while I say, “hey buddy, can you go ahead and keep that a secret from me for no good reason at all?”
He’d be like, “Umm… OK… you weirdo.” Cause in his head he’d be thinking, “Why do I have to arbitrarily hide this information while I inform you of everything else. Like, ‘hey, turns out your baby has a genetic disorder,’ or ‘hey wow, your baby has three eyeballs and green metallic scales growing along his-or-her ribcage.’ Do you want my help or not?” See, he’s annoyed because he knows it’s a disingenuous, overly sentimentalized attempt to live in the 1970’s.
Or maybe that’s just me. Probably just me. But I think it’s silly not to find out.
And lemme tell ya, it has nothing to do with planning for the baby’s arrival. I don’t care about the room color and I don’t think MiniMoob does either. Not for the first year anyway. You can launch me and my boy into Wegmans wearing pink wool sweaters and everybody can say, “Aww, she’s so adorable! What’s her name?” And I can say, “Charles.” And they can say, “Aww, Charlie is such a cute name for a girl!” And then Charles and I will go buy some gender neutral Gerber food and a large, manly, bone for me to gnaw on.
But I’ll tell you why I wanna find out. I wanna find out cause then I can actually KNOW if it’s my SON or my DAUGHTER!
And that changes everything.
It sets the tone for my relationship with them. I’ll know right then if they want to be like me someday; or if they want to BE me someday. Am I their hero or their role model? Do I protect them or unleash them on the world? And if I can begin bonding with them now, if I can meditate on what kinds of things they’re gonna need from me as they grow, why wouldn’t I do that?
But Dani doesn’t see it that way. Can you believe the nerve of that girl? I NEVER saw this coming. I thought for sure she’d care about the the pink sweaters and all. But that’s where she agrees with me.
I don’t even really understand her reason for waiting yet. All I know is that there’s this little glint in her eye. I saw it once while we ate lunch at Magnolia’s last month. She said, “So Babe, are we gonna find out?” And I said, “You mean some people don’t? You mean that still happens?”
And then she told me a story about how her parents waited. And she somehow tied in another story about when she was a little girl and she got a surprise puppy for Christmas.
Naturally, I reminded her that she hates surprises.