Amid the stress over the puking and the insufficient pooing, I have this amazing observation to make:
The moment I set eyes on my son, I stopped caring that I had ever wanted a girl. I stopped caring about ever wanting a girl in the future.
I cannot imagine having any other baby than this one.
And if I ever find myself insane enough to go through the insanity of labour, I couldn’t care less if I had a girl or a boy baby. Weird no?