2001-04-23
Still no nausea. I'm feeling a little queasy at times but not enough to rule out the possiblity that it's just my imagination. My primary symptoms thus far are diminished energy and increased breast size. These, I'm pretty certain, are not imaginary.
We're thinking--again--about moving. As I've mentioned many times, our neighborhood is fairly crime-ridden and our street very busy. Yesterday B and I drove around some housing developments and thought they seemed pretty nice. This goes against our nature to a certain degree but one fact is that these kinds of places allow children a much greater level of independence--being able to walk or ride a bike to a friend's house, for example, instead of having to be driven everywhere. Not to mention things like safety, and peace and quiet. Of course, the nice developments--the ones that do not clearcut trees but keep large wooded areas and have good-sized lots with some privacy and houses that are not hideously ugly--are expensive. So who knows? No need to act immediately.
You know what's odd to me? Realizing that the sex of this child is already determined. I'm of mixed hopes on the issue. Selfishly--and maybe narcissistically--I'd like a girl. A bookish girl, kind of like me. But I imagine that B would connect more strongly with a boy. I mean, we could certainly end up with a girl who was into fixing cars and woodworking--such girls do exist. And so do dreamy boys who like to read all day. As I wrote to a reader who kindly wrote to congratulate me, one of my great fears is that this child will turn out not to be a reader. I suppose I would love it anyway.
And speaking of the sex, I'm inclined to learn it as soon as possible. As the sensible Jen Wade once pointed out, waiting until birth is essentially arbitrary--if you really wanted to maintain the suspsense, you could pay someone to diaper the kid and wait until puberty.
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