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Beat 13
It's a Boy
Jeffrey R. DeRego
Every prospective parents hopes for a normal, healthy baby. I am no different, so any opportunity to put my worries at rest is a welcome vacation from:
What if it is born without any eyes? What if it comes out backwards? What if it has a dorsal fin and really sharp teeth? What if it decides to become a Republican?
Luckily, my wife, Cindy, is not one of those people who appreciates surprises. For example, I usually have to sleep beneath the Christmas tree just to protect the fun of that holiday morning. Therefore, when Cindy recommended that we learn the gender of our growing zygote during her first sonogram I readily agreed.
I joined Cindy just before she was led to the radiology table. A bit of belly goop for the wife and there it was.
The images were normal; the size was normal. After ten minutes of scanning the doctor asked whether we wanted to know the sex of the child.
"Yes," we said.
I had the opportunity to talk with several parents in preparation for this procedure, and all of them took great pains to dissuade me from learning our coming baby’s gender. The most common concern was that knowing would spoil the surprise of baby’s birthday.
Well, duh... isn’t that the point.
I mean, I would rather lose these few months of mystery than have to explain why my newborn son is garbed in pink baby jammies with “daddy’s girl” written across the front. I can afford to pay for the birth, but a lifetime of gender identity therapy is a little beyond my means, and that alone is reason enough to know.
My dad always said "prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance," and I live by this motto, though I still have no idea what it means. But in any case I wanted to be prepared for fatherhood, and the best way to do that was to know what was coming down the pike. Once I knew, I could prepare.
I rationalize it this way, when I brought home my DVD player I made sure to clear a place in my home entertainment cluster, I made sure I had an RF converter, I made sure I had some DVD movies to watch, and I made sure I had a new power strip so my apartment wouldn't be consumed in a horrendous electrical fire caused by an overloaded circuit.
Prior proper planning and all that...
Preparing for a baby is a little bit different. Cindy has strategically left several baby-themed catalogs around the living room, bathroom, bedroom, writing room, and kitchen. I am called on to make decision that seem at first surreal, and later terrifying. Should we register for the "Kiddykill Kar Seat" ($25) or save a bit and buy the "Titanium Tot Transport" ($199), do we want a crib that can also be used as a day bed, full size bed, and studio apartment, or should we get the crib equipped with a slat-mounted CD player or one that converts to both a beanbag chair and Harrier Jump jet?
Everyone has tips for we prospective parents too, which just adds to the anxiety.
My friends and coworkers chime in often with sage advise like "don't forget about shoes... Kids go through shoes like crazy, but you have to buy the really good (i.e. expensive) ones or they get fallen arches, club foot, hoof and mouth disease, head lice, and the other kids will make fun of them. Always buy Nike's, those are the best. If you don't like the way Nike's look, it’s okay to buy one of the other good (i.e. super expensive) brands. Never buy second hand shoes, you never know if the previous owner was a sickly mutant with bad feet."
Apparently all of my friends and coworkers earn a commission from Foot Locker.
Do we want to use a diaper service or disposables? Do I want Cindy to breast feed or bottle feed? I think she eats just fine with a knife and fork, but pregnant women are weird...
Do I start a college fund or blow my financial empire on a new toothbrush? Do I secretly register for the "Ninja Death Assassin Infant Play set with Real Rocket Launchers and Realistic Flashing Lights," because it is a toy with which I would have endless hours of fun?
Baby's are demanding even before they are born.
I tried to convince Cindy that we could skip all this planning and raise a "free range baby." No need to worry about diapers or anything then, we could raise the child the same way our Australopithecene ancestors did. Let it run around naked, eat wild nuts and berries, become part of our social group. We could migrate with the seasons, and maybe if time permitted, I could take up making stone tools as a hobby.
But she said no, and told me not to worry, because we still have several months left to plan for the other stuff. The important thing is that he's healthy, and that is all I need to know.
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