This week I found myself having to take down a Facebook status I posted because people thought I was saying that I was having a boy. I simply had stated that “Boy, I have my hands full with three girls” and for some reason that word “boy” really stood out to them. Many people replied with “Congratulations” or “OMG! You’re having a boy?” I thought it was hysterical that people jumped to this conclusion without really reading what I had posted.  I think people are just rooting for us that our fourth and final child might just be a boy.

Last night in bed, I asked my husband if he had a feeling about this baby’s gender, he replied with, “I think it’s a boy”. I’m not sure if it is wishful thinking on his part or if he is really onto something, but I was surprised to hear it either way. “Really?” I asked him. Then I rolled over and tried to block out the nausea and get some sleep.

It kills me how superstitious I can be at times, so much so that I almost didn’t want to write about this because I know I’d like to have a boy and don’t want to jinx it. I know there are people who believe that if you put your desires out into the universe they will manifest but I tend to hold back (believe it or not) because I fear disappointment if I don’t get my way. But even as I write this, I was never shy from telling people that I really wanted another baby. But then again, I would always talk about it with some trepidation rather than emphatically saying “Yes! I would love more children”.

Before I found out I was pregnant I was entering the gym and a woman was leaving with her two boys. One of them was putting up a fight and she said to him as she struggled with him in her arms, “Oh, come on mijo” (mijo means “my son” in Spanish). I remember thinking to myself, “Aw, I want a mijo” (or “hijo” for the Spanish grammar police).

Ultimately, whether girl or boy, I’d just like a healthy baby and a healthy pregnancy. I’m unusually sick (for me) this time around and I am having an especially difficult time at night. The other night, after a long day, Brent got a little bent out of shape with me because he thought I was being overdramatic with my night-sickness just to get out of helping get the kids to bed. Overdramatic? I told him to try being pregnant and then we could talk. I think my exact words were, “Try walking in a mile in my shoes”.

Sometimes men just don’t have a clue. All-day nausea, morning-sickness, night-sickness, whatever you want to call it, isn’t fun. I can’t completely fault him because I know I’ve had my fair share of being overdramatic at times, but I would just assume enjoy the nighttime ritual of putting my children to sleep and not feel like I’m going to throw-up on them while I’m doing so. Horizontal seems to be the only position that helps me feel better while I’m feeling this badly, that and ice-chips. So he is either mad at me for being overdramatic or for being too noisy while chomping on ice while he’s trying to watch a show. Second trimester, where are you?

But keeping busy has also helped me keep my mind off of feeling bad. When I’m moving around or doing things, that seems to help. I also seem to have a rare case of early nesting. Yesterday I had an energy surge that lead to cleaning and organizing our garage. I have now moved on to closet straightening and have even volunteered some time this weekend helping a friend with her organizational needs.

I haven’t really been able to sit and feel sorry for my sick self for too long because my girls keep me so busy with their lives and their schedules. Thursday was Olivia’s last day of preschool and kindergarten starts next week. I felt a little pang of sadness as we left school that day. I talked with her about being a big kindergartener now. She is so excited and has been waiting for this moment for sometime. Her preschool teacher has made a big to do about kindergarten in the classroom as she has so many kids moving on to kindergarten this year.

As we left preschool we bumped into her new principal at the school she will be going to and she was so excited to tell her Daddy later that we met her. Next week is going to be a big week for our family for sure. But I am still predicting that I will not cry, pregnancy hormones and all.

So while I don’t know what the gender of the next baby will be, when my morning/night sickness will cease, or whether or not I will cry on Olivia’s first day of kindergarten, I do know that I am trudging along this path of motherhood mostly with a smile on my face. I am enjoying the daily grind of diapers, laundry, lunches, and nighttime baths (although I am in the market for a children’s shampoo with a smell that doesn’t make me gag). I’m practicing having patience with my hardworking and loving husband who although may not understand how it feels to be 11+weeks pregnant, he’s a darn good guy and I am happy he’s mostly tolerant to all the moaning, groaning, and crunching going on beside him.