I couldn't think of a good title for this entry, so I'm leaving it blank, more or less.

As many of you may know, yesterday was the big day. Oh, you don't know. Okay, sorry. It was the day we were to (hopefully) find out the gender of urchin number two. Right now, it's December 7th, but we're not likely to hit that. We're figuring around Thanksgiving.

Anyway, I never cared a single second whether Lauren had ended up being a boy or a girl. I was so horrified at the myriad afflictions that a newborn can be stricken with that all I wanted was a healthy, ten fingered and ten toed, four limbed child. Gender (and manner of arrival for that matter) seemed so secondary to my first goal that they were almost invisible in my mind.

And then we got Lauren. She was perfect (with the notable and noisy exception of her 121 day bout with reflux and her inability to ride 10 feet in a car until she was one year old), and I was thrilled.

Then, the wife talked me into another one, which for some reason became an easier and easier sell as time went on. I can't explain that, but it was. In the months leading up to yesterday, I didn't care a whit what gender number two was.

And then, when word got out that we were going to find out, folks started asking what we wanted, etc. However, I still didn't care. And I said so.

So we got to the doctor yesterday (complete with Lauren in tow) and she got to hear the baby's heartbeat (or heartbeep as she called it). She was amazed. Everything looked good, so it was off to the other office for the ultrasound.

She sat and waited patiently until we were called back into the room. She was very impressed with the machine, but was very concerned when "the lady put jelly on mommy's belly," but she was ultimately impressed that her "mommy say it not hurt at all!!"

Then, we saw the baby. All the measurements were perfect, and occasionally Lauren would see a hand (or the tech would tell Lauren she was seeing a hand) and Lauren would address the belly:

"Hi baby!! You waved at me!! Hi!! I see you baby!!"

Then, we heard and saw the heartbeat in cool color ultrasonic form. Again, we were all mesmerized and I was relieved. We saw ten fingers and ten toes and two earholes and a perfect heart and brain measurement and limb length and everything else. I was ecstatic.

But the tech was having difficulty located the "indicators." I wasn't surprised. I have always joked that in this age of super advanced technology, I could produce an heir that was misidentified gender-wise, at least until the doctor slapped it's ass and handed it to me.

Anyway, after some very thorough searching, the tech said "I can't be sure, but I'd say it's a girl."

The doctor came in moments later, took one look and said "you're having a daughter."


Molly grabbed my hand, smiling as widely as I'd ever seen. I slumped slightly and just stared.

A girl.

Molly asked "What's wrong?"

I sat for a second and said "apparently I did care, and I guess I wanted a boy."

DAMMIT!

For the record, the dammit wasn't directed at the wife or the being behind the placenta, but at myself. I couldn't (and still can't) believe I was so fucking selfish. Ooooh...I want a boy. I have to carry on the family name, blah blah blah.

You know what? That's all horseshit. This isn't the middle ages. No one NEEDS to carry on a family name. There are over 6.5 billion people on this rock, and to assume the end of the family name is a crisis is absurd. I don't have an estate or a fiefdom or some land overseen by serfs and peasants. I'm a computer guy in Georgia that has the greatest daughter in the world and a wife no man deserves. I live well beyond any expectations I ever had (that didn't involve winning the lottery). My firstborn child has seven grandparents that love her very much, and much family that is eagerly awaiting the arrival of her younger sister.

Yet I had the unmitigated gall to sit in that chair (and a couple of times since then) and utter the words "Yeah, I guess I am a little disappointed." Fuck me.

For the record, I am thrilled to have another daughter. Here are several reasons I just came up with off the top of my head:

All the old clothes can still be worn, saving a trainload of money to be used on other stuff. Like more clothes.

I already know how things go with a girl (at least to this point).

It will be VERY unlikely that this child will pee anywhere near my face at any time in her life.

I will spend FAR less time over the next 17 years (or more) standing in urine while peeing in the middle of the night, or anytime I am peeing barefooted for that matter.

Uncle Todd will have another little girl to dote on for a while.

I'm sure this list will grow, but I think you see my point. Besides the very obvious reasons, there are many reasons that us having another girl is great news. I hope everyone that knows me can forgive me for my selfish and shameful pouting.

That's not to say that I won't pout again over something else. I most assuredly will. But that will be another story for another day.

Oh, and before I go today, I thought I'd share a very funny clip with you. Lauren picked up on the sound of the baby's heartbeat during the sonogram and ultrasound right away, and spent much of the rest of yesterday imitating it. Click on the link below and make sure you've got your speakers turned on:

The Amazing Lauren

Pretty good, huh?