Pink or blue...

Yesterday, The Other Half and I trooped off to the hospital for another visit to the Antenatal wing - this time for the 20 week (anomaly) scan. Oh my god - that means we're halfway through! Eek! The sonographer spent ages checking the little wriggler's measurements (and it lived up to its name - it wouldn't stop wriggling! Squirmed about all over the shop then appeared to spend quite a lot of time with its backside in the air, mooning us - which resulted in some pretty rubbish scan photos), looking in detail at all its organs etc. (amazing to see its little heart beating in so much detail) and generally making sure everything is developing as it should be. It is, thankfully. Then came the question we'd been dreading because we didn't know the answer to it. 'Do you want to know the sex of the baby?'

Argh! Now, we have talked about this quite a lot. I said I would only want to find out if we didn't tell anyone else. The Other Half said he didn't think he'd be able to keep it to himself. Then we decided that we'd quite like the surprise, and the only reason people find out anyway is so they can start buying pink or blue clothes in advance, which is a bit of a rubbish reason to be honest. But when the sonographer asked, it suddenly dawned on us that this wasn't a hypothetical question anymore. We looked at each other, unsure, and I asked the sonographer if she knew what it was - 'Oh, I know the sex,' she replied. 'Do you want me to tell you?' Double argh! Yes but no!

We didn't, in the end. I think the surprise will be worth the hard work.