Sarah Powell''s back in charge for her column this week. What happens when you're 37, almost infertile, in a new relationship and you go and get pregnant by accident? Find out in Sarah's weekly column: Up the Duff Without a Paddle.
It's week 22 and there are two important decisions to be made. Nothing in my life to this point has prepared me to make them, and I'm not entirely convinced I can do it alone.
If you've been pregnant before you'll know what I'm dealing with here. Firstly, whether to find out the baby's gender at next week's scan and secondly, whether to put my TV dinner plate underneath or above the bump. That one gets me every night, and frankly, I'm tired of washing food off clothes. Ah well, better get used to it!
As far as the baby's gender is concerned, I do at least have the boyfriend to help with decision-making.
Only, right now, we're not entirely on the same page.At first neither of us wanted to know, and then by about week 10 or so we decided we did want to know. That stayed pretty true until the last couple of weeks when, now that we're closer to the scan day, my partner isn't so sure. He says it might be "nicer to wait", but I think his nerves are about it becoming more real. The rabbit punches showing through my bump for the first time this week are making it very real already!
We've both taken to watching closely the difference between the toddler girls and boys that are friends have. I think we're trying to imagine having one or the other, and seeking some kind of instinctive reaction already to the reality of having a little girl or a boy.
For definite, we both get a bit freaked out when we meet very girly little girls, and there seems to be lots of those around and not that many tomboys. I blame it on the availability for pre-schoolers of beauty products, high heels, hair extensions and Jordan.
I have to admit I find little girly girl voices a bit like nails down a blackboard, and both of us start to feel a bit panicky at the sight of too much pink or a fairy costumes. I also have a funny response to blonde little girls, but I think that's the effect of having cropped short brown hair in my own androgynous childhood and desperately wanting to look like golden haired Vicky Sutton in my class.
A little girl will challenge me more than a little boy, I predict. This is so far backed up by friends, most of whom will say things like "oh, little boys are easier, they're so much more straightforward". I imagine that if this is really true in infancy it stays true for most of their lives. OK, we'll have to put up with a smelly bedroom and grunting for a few years, but boys always love their mummies right?
Did you find out if your baby was a girl or a boy? Did it help to know, or did you regret it? And is there really a difference between little girls and boys? Oh, and how can we escape having to get one of those demented fairy costumes? Please leave a comment here...