And it’s your friendly neighborhood Rheas! Laura is 18 weeks pregnant which puts the big arrival day at October 31st…Halloween! So this year it is Trick or Treat indeed!
Obviously, we’re both beyond excited and we can’t wait to get settled in to the new house so we can begin working on the nursery. The most common question we have been getting besides, "How are you feeling" (directed exclusively at Laura, apparantly nobody really cares about my health anymore…I’m like some nondescript cargo box down in steerage) is, "Do you know what you’re having?"
The answer is that no, we do not know what we’re having quite yet. We could find out in a few weeks for sure (technically, we might be able to find out right now but the chances are better later) but we’re still working this one out. Laura, the preeminent planner of the home, wants to find out for several very good reasons. Obviously, the practical aspect of being able to purchase specifics for baby but also being able to have that added connection of calling him or her by their actual name. These are wonderful reasons.
But, my reasons for not wanting to find out the sex until the actual delivery are less functional and more poetic. Poetry does not get you very far these days. The way I see it, almost everything in our lives can be predicted, controlled, planned for and forecast. The things that we can’t control tend to freak us out and scare us. Rather than allowing it to be a source of stress, I’m much more inclined to at least try to embrace it as a mystery and as a part of the adventure of Life. And what is more mysterious and wonderful than the delivery of a new life in to this strange and beautiful world?
So for now, we will just refer to the little cutie as a sweet potato.