Babies and Old Wives

When my husband and I went to the 18-week ultrasound, we knew we wanted to know the sex of our firstborn. I'm the kind of person who can't stand not knowing things, and my husband, well, just wants everyone to know. The fact that I've set up a baby pool on Facebook and at work, allowing people to guess the sex and date of birth (and in the case of my workplace, the birth weight), annoys him. "You're turning our baby into a circus!" he says, somewhat accusingly. But I think it's fun.

I have told people I don't know personally, like the dentist and the opthamologist. But keeping it a secret from my friends and family is HARD. Now that we know what Jellyfish is, it has become increasingly difficult not to use personal pronouns when talking about, er, the baby (see what I almost did there?) to other people. This is doubly difficult in French, where nouns have genders, so "le bébé" is masculine. I've had people jump on the fact that I have referred to the baby as "il" (he) to mean that the baby is a boy. Which may or may not be true.

I have slipped up on occasion (including when talking once to my dad, who just said nonchalantly, "I didn't hear anything," which may or may not have been true), but instead of hurriedly using the alternate pronoun, which is a dead giveaway, I just try my best to keep talking normally.

This is more difficult than it sounds.

Also, the fact that I have mentioned that "it was clear from the ultrasound what the sex is" to naturally mean that there was a giant penis on the screen waving around and saying hello. People, the absence of something is also definitive, you know! Which is not to mean that I'm saying it's a girl.

Boy, am I sly!

One coworker believes it's a boy, because we had a discussion where I asked her about boy names. All the baby name lists I've created over the years - and there have been many - are predominantly filled with girl names. Girl names are easy! I've always had trouble finding boy names I've liked. And generally, there is a delicate balance to finding a baby name that is:

• kind of traditional (no Moonshifter, Ziggy, Lafawndah, or Kodi);
• not too common or popular (no David, Ethan, Emma, or Olivia);
• not impossible to spell or pronounce (e.g. Niamh, pronounced NEEV);
• preferably has a French equivalent or pronunciation that is not too far off the English version (Henry/Henri, Bridget/Brigitte);
• is not sexually ambiguous in English (e.g. Kerry, Madison, Jamie, Ashley);
• is not sexually ambiguous in French (e.g. Michel/Michelle, Gabriel/Gabrielle);
• not too long (e.g. Yo Xing Heyno Augustus Eisner Alexander Weiser Knuckles; read here for the reference);
• doesn't rhyme with MacDonald (Ronald, Donald);
• and last but not least, doesn't have the distinction of being the same name as someone in our past that we disliked (examples omitted to protect ourselves)

So when this girl said she had a whole host of good boy names, I naturally was curious and pumped her for information. Leading to assumptions which may or may not be correct.

I've been finding it hilarious to hear people determine what the sex is based on old wives' tales, like the position of the baby or my shape or how pretty I am. It's even funnier when one person says it's a boy and another says it's a girl, and they each give me the same reason for their theory. Or, conversely, when I've known the opposite reason to be true.

e.g. "You're having a boy because your belly is all forward." To which I reply that this is how my mother carried me - at seven months she stuck straight out and people walking behind her didn't know she was pregnant until she turned around.

e.g. "You're having a girl because you're a little rounder than you were before." I chortle to myself and say that my mother was round all over when carrying my brother Scott.

One of the funnier determinants I've heard is the pretty-ugly factor, which I have heard used for both sexes. I had a nice table all set up, but I can't figure out how to insert it here, so I'll just have to write it out.

Theory #1: If you're pretty, it's a boy!
Reason: If you're pretty, it's because a boy is taking your ugliness.

Theory #2: If you're ugly, it's a boy!
Reason: If you're ugly, it's because a boy is passing his "ugliness" (masculinity?) onto you.

Theory #3: If you're pretty, it's a girl!
Reason: If you're pretty, it's because a girl is enhancing your pre-existing prettiness.

Theory #4: If you're ugly, it's a girl!
Reason: If you're ugly, it's because a girl is taking all your prettiness for herself.

There is a funny quiz online to figure out your gender odds based solely on old wives' tales. Here are my answers, for your edification on my current state of gravidas, and your temporary amusement.

1. My hair is shiny and full-bodied.
2. The hair on my legs growing just as fast as before. (Where did THIS theory come from?)
3. My nails are growing faster and stronger.
4. I have had morning sickness.
5. I generally crave sour or salty things, as opposed to sweets.
6. My tush is not growing abnormally large.
7. My feet are no colder than they were before.
8. Fetal heart rate is generally below 139 bpm.
9. I'm not craving orange juice.
10. Baby's resting low.
11. My belly is watermelon-shaped, not beach-ball shaped.
12. Baby's kicking mostly to the right.
13. Baby's kicking mostly low.
14. The dad's not gaining sympathy weight.
15. I can't see the weight gain in my face.

According to these answers, there's a 60% chance it's a boy, and a 40% chance it's a girl.

I'd love to hear any other old wives' tales you've heard to predict gender!