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?

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