To Know or Not to Know? That is the question.

We've been debating on whether or not to find out the gender of our new little one. With Charlotte, it wasn't even a question of if I wanted to know or not. I HAD to know. I wanted to be prepared. This time around though, things seem different. I'm not as anxious with this pregnancy. Maybe it's because I've done it before. Or because I don't have the luxury of time to spend hours dreaming away and worrying like I did with Charlotte. Either way, we were still debating on the way to the ultrasound: Do we choose to wait or choose to know?

Like with everything, there are a list of pros and cons to consider.

Would I be able to hold out until end of August without knowing? Probably not. I absolutely hate surprises, and can't keep any secrets pertaining to myself (for other secrets, yes, I absolutely can keep them.)

Would I be able to keep the secret from family and friends until the baby came along, if I knew what it was? Fat chance.

Would we be able to come up with names for both genders, knowing how hard it was the first time around picking for just one gender? Hmm. Seeing as how we agree on very little when it comes to naming a child, this is asking for double trouble.

Would it be worth the wait to hear those words, "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!" after those long hours of labour? Most likely.

Would I be proud of myself and surprise everyone else that I was able to wait? Hands down yes. In fact, I think those who know me well would be downright shocked that I was patient. For once.

And so we arrived at the ultrasound, still extremely wishy washy on the subject.

During the ultrasound, I found out that they won't tell you here until you're 21 weeks along to avoid selective abortion. I thought it would be a good plan to have it jotted down in the report, seeing as how they wouldn't release the information right away anyways, and that would buy me some time in this decision, seeing as how I wouldn't be seeing the OBGYN for another month.

And so I sat back, relaxed on the table, and watched my extremely active baby on the screen. After a while, I asked the technician if she could tell if our baby is a boy or girl. She replied, "well,actually, that's one thing I can't tell you." I nodded in understanding, knowing she was not allowed to say anything. Then she looked at me again and said, "I think you've misunderstood me. I can't tell you what it is, because I can't see what it is. You see, the cord is between its' legs." I lied there, stunned for a moment. Then my brain went into overdrive. ARE.YOU.SERIOUS. This can't be. What if I change my mind? What if I really have to know?

And just like that, my need to know came to life. No longer was I wishy washy on the subject. No longer was I thinking how proud of myself I would be for being patient and waiting it out. No, I needed to know. Right then and there. I wanted to be able to dream about my baby girl or boy, just like I did with Charlotte. About little dresses or little suits. About soccer games or ballet lessons. About a pink or blue room.

But now the ultrasound is done, and here in Canada it's the last one I'll have before this little one joins us. A decision thought to be ours was made for us. A little umbilical cord has decided our fate. I will be able to shock people that I waited. Julien and I will hash it out for the months to come to find not just one, but 2 suitable names. I will go crazy by July not knowing, and will probably end up buying little suits and little dresses.

And I will be so proud when after hours of labour I hear those words, "It's a boy! or It's a girl!". Vive the end of August!