And so it came to pass that on November 29th at 10:30 a.m., I did waddle into the ultrasound room at Dr. S.'s office, and was accompanied by my sweet husband and not just one but two sets of grandparents, wherein we learned that, Baby P-M does indeed possess, as the technician said, "boy parts." And lo there was much weeping and laughing and all sorts of overwhelming sensations.
I still am a bit shocked, as I really was pretty convinced that it was a baby Ella rather than a baby Grayson kicking around in my belly. It is still so foreign to me that my body, my female body, my feminist-with-every-inch-of-her-being body, could create a male. I'm not sure I know how to "do boy."
And then I realize, that by creating this kind of stereotyping, this sense that boys are that much different than girls, that I am perpetuating the kind of wretched stereotyping that believes that boys care about things like monster trucks and WWF wrestling, and that girls care about things like Barbie dolls and hair salons. What kind of namby-pamby feminist is that?
I can't wait to look into the eyes of my son and see the sensitive soul that lurks within. And today, I am humbled by the chance to welcome and adore him. Advent feels very fresh this year.