Update

Being me, I did some research into my feelings about this whole "penis" thing.

Turns out, and this is no surprise, it's an actual thing: Gender disappointment.

And, less of a surprise, a common denominator is unhealthy/abusive relationships with that gender.

Which, I imagine is obvious from my last post, I have some history with.

Ryan and I had some good conversations. Same kind of thing I already mentioned: his kid/DNA, a different relationship with a son than a parental figure, Ryan felt his own anxiety about activities to bond with Rory over and it turned out fine, etc.

It's helped some. Mostly just knowing I'm not the only one who has wept over the gender of her baby makes me feel like less of a horrible person.

I'm still not thrilled about it, and I don't know that I'm going to be. I still don't like the clothes, although I found a few cute things on pinterest to try to get excited. Anything that looks cuddly and warm.

I'm hoping he's bookish and kind of clumsy. I can connect with that. In the end it won't matter, and once he arrives all will be well.

It's just a not situation you expect to be in. What part of having your second, planned and perfectly timed baby is there to be sad about? Another baby with your devoted husband and a sibling for your excited daughter? Figures, I'd have pre-partum depression or something.

View from our seats.

The third best day of Ryan's life? Maybe.

Mean football face!

Tailgating