How My Students Made Pregnant Me Cry

They did it. They finally did it.

My students made me cry.

Now, I will freely admit I am an emotional person even when I'm not pregnant. I feel things very deeply (and my feelings have the unfortunate ability to affect things around me, such as breaking appliances). When I'm excited, I'm really excited, and when I'm freaked, I'm really freaked - at least for a little while. Then I can usually come back to a calm equilibrium in about 5 minutes and get on with life.

Well, pregnancy doesn't really let me do that. While sometimes I can cry or laugh or snap for no reason, and go back to being normal in a second (like, literally - switch emotions on a dime), other times I can't shake my emotional state. It keeps looming, making it difficult to function. This can be so intense that I will end up sobbing and weeping for hours.

Of course, it's always made worse when I can't let my emotions out completely. So you can imagine how bad today was. Not only were my students acting out by standing up and not working on their projects, but they were also LOUDLY complaining (complaining about having to stay in art, complaining about the project, complaining that it was hard - and all VERY loudly and obviously).

The class in question is probably my worst behaviorally. This is a little surprising because I have a lot of students who are really excellent in it. They really are. And they suffer every class because the other half of the students just don't want to listen or to help. Their good behavior just isn't enough to outweigh and influence those who are displaying bad behavior.

Well, after trying to get through origami instructions for a cool project (jumping frogs! They're fun! They jump! Everyone who has made them has loved them!), I snapped. I had to stop probably 10 times to get them to stop talking (half of which was loud and obvious complaining) and I was done. I almost lost it in class because I was so upset. In the end, I let them have recess because I didn't want to be around them any more. I wasn't sure what I would do, or what I *should* do (i.e. who I should call to deal with them for me while I hid in the bathroom). But I also didn't want to break down at work because I didn't want to have to leave with blotchy skin and tear tracks down my cheeks.

Well, I did end up crying a little outside during recess. Then I cried a little more when I told my supervisor about the misbehavior and what we should do about it. In the end, I know we'll come up with a solution (already have an idea of what will happen).

The thing is, I couldn't stop crying.

I kept crying. Once I got in the car, I couldn't stop. It just kept coming. Luckily when a toddler ran out into the street outside the school, I had the presence of mind to stop well before he crossed in front of my car. But once I got onto the main drag, I don't think I would have been as aware. I was barely registering the color of the traffic lights. I stopped crying enough to get out of my car when I got home. Then once inside, I started sobbing again. I sobbed as I got my snack. I sobbed as I filled up my water bottle. I sobbed while I was putting away dirty dishes.

I was so upset, I was just short of throwing up. I actually wretched several times.

This is not my normal reaction to misbehaving students - at least not with this level of misbehavior (someone would have to make me feel REALLY badly about myself before I would cry this much). Yes, this class is a repeat offender, but it's only 2 hours of my week. I can generally deal with herding cats for 2 hours of each week. It's not that bad. Really.

Except I'm pregnant.

And today just happened to be a crazy hormone surge - or something. For whatever reason, my emotions were just really intense today. It could have been anything that set me off. I know this because after watching Brave this past week (twice!), I cried horribly when the main character was trying to save her mom. Like really crying. In fact I couldn't stop crying. So it wasn't that I blame my students (although I do want them to follow instructions). I don't. My reaction was from the fact that cannot control my emotional reactions the same way as before I was pregnant. And I don't know when I'll have extreme reactions or not. I just know that they happen and there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm hoping in the last few weeks of the program these kids won't give me so much grief, but I know this is probably wishful thinking. So, if I feel an intense reaction coming on, I guess I'll just have to call in reinforcements. Here's hoping that works.

The Nightly Pregnancy Freak-out v. Reality

The last few hours of every day while I've been pregnant have been rough. Every day I do the same thing. About 2 hours before I go to sleep I start freaking out about some aspect (or multiple if I'm having a spectacular day) of my life.

Then about an hour before bed, I go on a 20 minute rant on how that thing is falling apart and how I want life to be better or different. Last night it was my body and my body image. Usually it involves finances or our living situation.

And it's horrible.

It makes Christian feel horrible (which honestly bothers me more) and it doesn't really make me feel better, except to voice my concerns. But I can't stop myself from doing it.

I have a theory why it happens the way this nightly negative rant does. First, I *do* tend to be more negative when I'm hormonal. It's something I noticed before pregnancy, so it makes sense that during pregnancy when my body is being flooded with hormones I would have some of that same freak-out factor.

Second, I am always at least a little uncomfortable. Right now, for example, my hip is in pain (now a nightly occurance) and I have moderate heartburn/acid reflux. Even though my eyes are tired and I want to go back to sleep, I doubt I can because of my physical discomfort. Physical discomfort is something that batters against a person's mental state. It's hard to be positive when I'm physically uncomfortable. Of course it will make me a little cranky! I'm in pain!

Third, being tired is a fast track to negativity. It is one of the states in which you should never attempt negotiations. It is one of the things they tell educators to look for in children misbehaving in class. It is something visible even in the youngest of babies - being tired makes us cranky. It's hard to be positive when we're cranky.

Put these three things together, and you have a recipe for a nightly freak-out. And it is only nightly. Because when I wake up, even though some of these thoughts are at the back of my brain, I don't really entertain them. I expect things will work out just fine. I expect kiddo will be born and while things will be a little tight initially, my writing will have started to gain serious traction allowing me to relax a bit more (at least financially). I expect in 5 years, Christian will have his own business doing *something* and it will be successful and fulfilling. I expect we'll have a reasonable little starter house, if not something bigger, and we may even have a little cabin in the woods for camping vacations with our kids. I expect I will be in good shape physically. I expect we will have a supportive community surrounding us, including a cadre of close friends that live where we live.

When I wake up every morning, and during most of the day, that is what I see for us in 5 years.

Today even, we drove past a potential community for us (we're seriously thinking about moving to a bigger apartment for less money). As we drove down the main street of the municipality I had to kind of smile as I caught my breath.

You see, I've seen that place. Don't get me wrong, I've never been there before in my life. But I've seen it - every day for the past 3 years. I've imagined myself walking down that main street, wearing a baby on my belly and holding the hand of a toddler. In this vision, the three of us are walking home to our house from daddy's successful business, in order to eat lunch and take the subsequent nap. I'm talking to my toddler about something - answering questions. It is a boy. The baby is in a woven multi-color sling or Moby wrap, but the main color is blue or teal.

While I have tried to visualize other things, this particular image stays with me. I see it, as I said, daily. It is a strange mental video clip, playing over and over in the back of my mind. I have told Christian about this little vision before, and I think he didn't believe it was real. And I tried to explain it to Christian, why I wasn't happy where we were. But "happy" isn't the right word - restless is better. It was more like, we had movement that needed to happen. Steps needed to be taken. I couldn't just sit still when I knew things needed to move to bring this vision to reality. And I knew it would be reality.

So when I told Christian this same thing today, he said, "I think we have to move then. Obviously this is where we need to be."

I'm writing these things because I feel, just as I felt back in January, that 2013 is an important year in our lives. I feel it in the deepest parts of me, and not just because of the baby. I feel every part of our lives will be affected - shifted into a new and exciting place. This is what I really believe, down below the fear, anxiety, and resulting nightly freak-out. I believe this is the result of efforts we've been making for some time. I believe it is something that has been actually destined.

Some people will think I'm a little crazy for saying these things. That's okay. They may blame it on pregnancy, though anyone who knows me also knows I was this way before. My life moves mysteriously, guided by gut instinct, dreams, and kismet. It is affirmed by deja vu and subtle signs too perfect to be coincidence. It is not a straight path and it is shrouded in the unknown,  making it trying for even the most faith-filled person.

Still, when I follow it, it is always good. Always.

So tonight, when I freak out (because I will), Christian will remind me (because he will) of these things - things I know deep down. I'll get over my momentary panic, and drift off to sleep, while playing my mental movies of what is to come.

The Dreaded Charley Horse: Leg Cramps in Pregnancy

Last night I terrified Christian.

I woke up to excruciating pain in my calf muscle. I couldn't seem to stretch my leg. I couldn't seem to do anything. I tried to wiggle my ankle around - my toes - anything. Everything was painful. I was gasping and crying out as anyone does in extreme sharp pain.

This of course woke up Christian and he proceeded to freak out. After all, what if these were abdominal cramps? What if I was experiencing preterm labor? He kept asking me what was wrong. When I was able to hear him asking, I realized how bad it must have looked, and how terrified he must have been.

Quietly I replied that it was my leg cramping. He asked which one. I thought he would have massaged the thing if I'd let him. Of course, the problem was I had to pee (just my luck). Thankfully when I put my foot on the floor, the pressure helped the pain to subside. I hobbled to the bathroom. When I came back to bed, Christian was much calmer. I let him know the pain was mostly gone.

After doing a few impromptu in-bed stretches, I slowly went back to sleep.

This morning when I woke, my leg was still sore. It was clear I needed to read up on leg cramps.

Apparently a lot of the same things that cause leg cramps are related to swelling. The same things you do to prevent swelling, are those you can do to prevent leg cramps. Things like drinking water and stretching are important, as well as making sure you have good circulation. Clearly I'm never crossing my legs again (at least not until after September) and will be stretching my leg muscles every 30 minutes until this baby is out.

As I write this my ankles are crossed.

I'm already failing at this game. Damn.

Sausage Cankles: Dealing With Pregnancy Edema

Maybe you can't tell by looking, but I can. The picture to the left shows my ankles after I put them up for over an hour. Yes, that means they aren't as swollen as they were when I put them up originally.

Originally I felt like I had a mild case of elephantiasis. My ankles, normally slender and lovely, had become enormous ghastly things. Of course (lucky me) this wasn't the only area affected - in fact my entire legs were swollen. My knees actually looked fat. When I touched them, I couldn't help but be reminded of those wretched "water baby" dolls developed in the 1990s.

Yes. Gross.

Some people might say I need to watch out - that I'm probably going to develop preeclampsia or some such thing. So far my blood pressure has been blessedly low, so that's *really* unlikely. However, it has been hot. I haven't been drinking enough water (because of the heartburn issue) and I do ingest caffeine (What can I say? Everyone has a vice, though I do limit my consumption.). I do eat a fair amount of salt (though I don't add it to food). Plus working at the school, I'm standing a lot.

I don't think this is a recipe for skinny ankles.

The result is now I have to force myself to drink more water. I have to stretch my feet and walk around every so often. I have to make sure I don't cross my legs when I'm sitting (Which honestly, feels weird to do now anyway, so it's not going to be much of a hardship.). I need to exercise a little more consistently (which I want to do anyway because it gives me more energy).

All that should help. And if it doesn't? Well, at least it's temporary. It's definitely temporary. It will go away once kiddo is born. I've been promised by multiple sources it's temporary [bites lip in concern as she stares at fat ankles].

It seems this temporary thing is becoming my new mantra. Now if only I genuinely believed it...

The Stress of Feeling Inferior During Pregnancy

I'm lying here wide awake and incapable of sleeping right now. Maybe it's just hormones or maybe it's the fact that I can't stop thinking about writing. Maybe it's the fact that I'm freaking out about what will happen in three weeks time when I no longer have a steady paycheck and I have yet to buy any baby things (no point until after the baby shower) or fully pay the midwives.

I'm a little stressed.

It's supposed to be bad for the baby.

When people tell me that, I can't help but think, "Yeah, so give me a way to destroy those stressors and I'll be able to sleep at night!"

I would love to not have to think about such things as how I'll pay for food, baby gear, or continue to make payments towards my stupidly sized educational debt, but I can't help it. It keeps coming back to me like a plague and there's no known cure. I don't know what to do except keep doing what I'm doing in an effort to hopefully overcome my situation.

I have these moments of crazy - literally - that involve breaking down everything to the most awful conclusion. They involve highlighting negative feelings and faults in those around me and my life generally.  These are horrible times, usually when I'm tired, and I feel like I haven't done enough.

I don't know if it's the nesting thing or if it's my life expectations combined with hormones, but I look at pictures of people from my pregnancy forums and Facebook and strangers in magazines and I feel inferior. I feel like I have somehow failed because I live in a loft which I rent. I live too near a freeway in a concrete jungle. I have a car that needs about a thousand things replaced to look even remotely decent and not make odd noises when I drive it. I have fat upper arms and cellulite on my thighs that makes me doubt my attractiveness every time I see a picture or video of an unpregnant woman. I paid too much money for two degrees that I haven't used and continue to cause me financial hardship. I haven't lived up to my professional potential. A night out on the town right now involves going to a chain restaurant and shopping at Target.

And when I look at things in this way, I am disguested and ashamed and utterly embarrassed. I was supposed to be that amazing person that everyone wanted to be able to say, "I knew her when..." I was supposed to be the person who made something of herself - who was spectacular and did things that other people only fantasized about doing in their wildest dreams.

So I'm left wondering what I've been doing with my time and feeling like I have failed myself and all those people who had such high hopes for me. I feel like I may as well have been flipping burgers or stocking shelves all this time.

That's how I feel in those moments when I take stock of my life and compare it to the huge dreams and expectations I have for myself.

And I want to wallow in it. I really do. I want to wallow and whine and complain and have a full on pity party in the most teenage whiney way possible. I actually do.

Except I hate people like that and I am disgusted by people who won't help themselves. Thankfully this is a strong part of who I am - big enough to counteract all the ridiculous bitching and moaning with some reason.

I haven't been wasting my time. I've learned a lot. Things went weird, some were unexpected, and I had some bad luck. That is for sure. However, life isn't over. Things change in a moment. I'm spending a lot of time on a dream I just can't shake, and that's more than a lot of people do in their whole lives. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth doing. My success wouldn't be nearly so satisfying. The achievement of publishing 7 or 8 books from my writing challenge in a matter of months wouldn't mean nearly as much. The fact that I'm doing it in my second and third trimesters just makes it that much more awesome. I'm not a failure. I'm fricking amazing.

So yes, I can't buy things I want right now. I have to sacrifice a little comfort for a dream. Yes I have to be a little creative and forgo some things that if I had any extra money at all I would buy (like a shiny steering wheel or new shocks or more importantly, a house big enough to grow into). But just like this on again off again pregnancy anxiety I'm feeling, this situation is temporary. It's not forever. A person doesn't publish 7 or 8 books at once without getting a little attention (or at least a little more name recognition).

The moral of this is, hang in there. This uncomfortable time doesn't last long. And when it's over, you're going to be so amazed at what you were able to do, and probably others will too.

A Software Upgrade or Fun With Pregnancy Brain

I have a thousand things I could write about, but seriously my mind is blank. Which is why it makes so much sense to write about this.

Since becoming pregnant, I don't know how many times I've forgotten a word so simple and so well used in conversation that it's embarrassing. Or how about times when I've switched my student names when there is no possible connection between them? Yeah. I hate that.

The awesome thing is, these aren't the worst of it. The worst (or best) is trying to put toothpaste in your hair (instead of product) or a notepad in the freezer (instead of *on* the fridge).

I never did things like this before becoming pregnant. It is absolutely because of preggo brain.

Supposedly pregnancy brain happens when your hormones literally switch up your thinking. They do this so you are better programmed for motherhood. This means you spot danger faster than the average person, and respond more quickly to your baby. It also means you're more inclined to love on them (which thanks to biology is a continuous process fostered by childbirth and breastfeeding as well).

The price is your memory.

It seems like a fairytale. You pay with something in your head for some other head thing; except I can't help thinking in fairytales the price is always too high and has disasterous consequences. Is losing my memory too much to give? And is it permanent?

There are some changes in pregnancy that are temporary, but the rewiring of your brain into "mommy" is forever. For someone like me who has a strong memory (which I've cultivated through practice in addition to just having the gift) I probably have memory to spare (now I sound like a computer). But I can't help thinking about some people who didn't have all that much memory in the first place.

Memory is an aspect of intelligence. The ability to recall enormous amounts of information and use it with critical and analytical thought processes gives a person great advantage. Those with limited memory simply can't come to the same conclusions. This is probably one of the reasons Americans are looked down upon by many - we don't emphasize memorization in education. Literally, we seem more stupid.

So what does this mean for moms? I could make the argument that motherhood, pregnancy specifically, makes a person more stupid. And it does. That is a fact - if we're only looking at memory as an indicator of intelligence.

To counter that, I have to cite the sixth sense of moms everywhere as proof this rewiring process does something special. That joke about mothers having eyes in the back of their heads or that moms always *know* (and my own experience with this proves it true) tells me it's not a fairytale. This is not a situation where I'm losing something and getting very little back.

It's an upgrade.

So while misplacing things and forgetting basic words may be annoying, these experiences are a marker. I'm getting new software. I'm getting eyes in the back of my head.

The Worst Pregnant Night

I didn't get to sleep until late. This was partially because my mind was going, partly because I had bad heartburn to the point that nothing I did made me comfortable. Eventually my need for sleep won out, however.

I slept for maybe 2 hours. Then I woke up with horrible heartburn, but I wasn't convinced I was hungry. I took a Tums. Christian was wandering around so I was alone and grew anxious.

When he returned I still had heartburn and then had shooting breast pain (as though someone was stabbing me repeatedly - yeah, that was fun!). I tried to go to sleep but had heart palpitations and felt short of breath (could have been caused by all manner of things). So I lay in bed trying to relax.

I started reading articles about all kinds of things.

That carried me to about 7 am. I slept 2 hours. I woke up with horrible heartburn. I ate breakfast. Exhausted, I went back to sleep. I woke up again at 11 am. I still felt funky. I got lunch. I took a walk. The movement pulled a muscle in my belly or something, making it nearly impossible to walk back to my car.

Oh, did I mention the headache and general weird tummy feeling I've been sporting since lunch? Yeah. So that's a thing.

Needless to say, work was a no-go today. By the time I got home from my walk I felt like I would collapse. I don't relish the thought of keeling over while trying to wrangle 5th graders. No need to freak them out (or my husband who would inevitably be called to come get me or meet me at the hospital if such a thing happened at work).

The moral of the story? Pregnant bodies are out of control - literally. Sometimes the only thing we preggo ladies can do is drink some water, take a Tums, and rest.

Incidentally, I believe reading is in my near future...after my nap of course.

Pregnancy Annoyances: Heartburn

Today it has been bad - well, worse than bad. I've had two periods of time today where my chest felt like it was being eaten from the inside by white-hot flame. Yes, I have the worst case of heartburn ever. EVAR!

I'm hungry almost all the time. I have to eat, so I do. When I eat, I get heartburn. If I recline at all, the heartburn is worse. Mind you, I'm not talking about laying down, I'm talking about leaning, at like a 75 degree angle. It doesn't matter. There's so much acid in my stomach it comes right up, burning holes along the way. Bleh.

The only things that mildly help are dairy substances (milk, yogurt, ice cream etc) or antacid tabs (which I pop like candy). Unfortunately it only takes a few hours before the heartburn is back with a vengeance, tearing up my chest and throat.

Apparently I can thank progesterone for this - so thanks Big P! You're awesome and I hate you! :-D

The thing that comforts me when I'm suffering through the ridiculous pain is the thought that I might get a full head of hair on the kiddo at the end. Apparently women who have heartburn during pregnancy are more likely to have a baby with a full head of hair. I like the idea of crazy spiky hair on my newborn. I think kiddo will look awesome. Though honestly, by the time I'm holding my new baby, I doubt I'm going to be thinking about how much heartburn I suffered during my pregnancy, or how annoyed I am that kiddo has peach fuzz for hair despite my days and days of chest pain from gastric juices.

I'll thank oxytocin for that one (seriously - that stuff is amazing! Thank God for that!).

Pregnancy Annoyances: Mood Swings

Probably after the the range of emotions from this past weekend, anyone would be freaking out, but for me everything is a thousand times worse.

So after the full impact of my hopes and fears about having more than enough money to live on by working from home hit me, I sobbed to the point of hyperventilating. Christian, good man that he is, rubbed my back and reassured me that we would be fine.

Probably we will be.

But I can't fully put my fears away, or at least I haven't been able to.

Then again, I also cry from indecision relating to too many maternity shirt choices. I've snapped at Christian when our shoes weren't in the shoe bench. I've yelled about my ice water being in the wrong water bottle. I've cried so hard I laughed hysterically and then cried again.

Anything can set me off if I'm not careful. I feel like I'm a walking emotional mine. There are moments I don't know what will happen, or I'll be going along completely fine when all of a sudden something strikes some part of me setting me down a spirling whirlwind of emotion.

And then, just like that, I'm back to normal.

Pregnancy hormones are rough. Sheesh.

Pregnancy Annoyances: Inconsideration

This morning I decided I would go for a walk on the beach. It was cool enough for me to not melt, and my midwives like it when I'm active (good for the baby, placenta size, and preventing anemia - or so they tell me).

So I drove over to the Alameda shore. I parked. I crossed the street without incident. I happily enjoyed the fact that few people were on the sand just yet. The beach itself was short this morning as the tide was in, but while I noted it, it caused me little concern. The water was smooth - perfect for the rowers who were already over halfway through their morning practice at least 100 yards out.

As I walked along the water edge of the public shoreline, I came upon a group of people. There were probably at least 40. They were setting up blankets and towels that covered the entire width of the sand (up to the wooden fencing that protects the plants between the shore and the sidewalk). I noticed they had some tiki torches stuck in the ground and quickly looked around the crowd. Was it a wedding? Some kind of service? No one was dressed up. There were no photographers that I could see. Maybe it was some kind of camp thing - there did seem to be some kids.

Without much concern, I continued walking. When I reached my limit, I stopped, looked out at the water and saved the sight. The haze was just right - just enough to obscure the wretchedness of over-habitation on the peninsula across the bay. It reminded me of a morning I experienced at Lake Ohrid in Macedonia. Satisfied with the sight, I turned and walked back, rewinding the people I had passed and subtle landmarks that shorelines have...all the way until I reached that crowd.

I saw there were people trying to dance in the water. They weren't synchronized. They were making many mistakes. They were talking as they danced. There were several of these groups. It must be a camp. The people on the shore were half watching half talking. I was about 10 feet away from one of the tiki torches before a man came up to me.

"We're having a spiritual ceremony."
"Okay."
"We're asking people to walk around." I glanced at the crowd and looked back at this man in confused irritation. The attendees were all the way up to the fence.
"Where?"
"Along the perimeter."
"Right."

I wanted to shout at him, "Are you effing kidding me?! There's no place to walk?! You tell me this here, when I'm right at the edge, instead of having a sign or something?! You let your congregation take up the entire width of the public beach and you're asking us to walk around the perimeter?! In the sharp dune grass?!" I didn't think I needed to say, "Oh and by the way, I'm pregnant."

This is what I would have said if I was feeling more saucy, but I was tired by my walk and so I grumbled grouchily up the inclined sand to the very edge and tried to pick my way along the fence, which soon became impossible because of the blankets and towels people had laid along the fence.

Eventually a dude bro saw me and called, "Oh, you don't have to walk just there. It's nice of you, but just come here." He pointed to an open bit of sand that struck right through the crowd. Needless to say, I never would have done that at a church service, so why would I do that to whatever spiritual gathering this other group was having?

I was so upset I started crying on the beach as I cleared the crowd. If they wanted people to walk around them, there should have been some kind of signage. There should have been a clear space around the group. The congregation themselves shouldn't have packed their towels and blankets ALL the way up against the fence.

The moral of this story? People are inconsiderate. Or maybe thoughtless. Or both.

This was just the latest example in a series of inconsiderate incidences. Any time someone disobeys traffic laws, thinking rules don't apply to them, causing other people to take evasive action (or even when that doesn't happen!), it is at the very least inconsiderate. Any time someone forgets to flush the toilet, or put something back where they found it, it is inconsiderate. Any time someone messes up or destroys something just for the sake of it, it is inconsiderate.

This lack of consideration, of thoughtfulness, disturbs me. I called it an annoyance, and specifically a pregnant one, but it is neither of those things. It is all the time disrespectful, discourteous, and uncivil.

And perhaps I'm being old-fashioned when I say these words. Perhaps I'm being hormonal. But the fact of the matter is, I do not trust our society or many parents to teach these behaviors to children. And let's be clear - the next person who behaves in such an inconsiderate way, is going to be schooled. Severely.

You've been warned. :-)

Have a nice day!

Raising Boys v. Girls: It's All About The Hormones

I've been doing a TON of research (and when I'm not blogging on my phone I'll share it with you). I've been researching because of something my midwife said about the first few moments after birth.

She said it was the only time you could think of your child as just a person, without any gendered identification.

Initially I agreed with her. I've always been a big proponent of gender equality (and I mean gender). I want to raise boys or girls the same - to feel like they have options beyond what people associate with a penis or a vagina. I want children to know they can do anything they choose.

The problem is, mothers and babies already start to have a relationship long before the baby is born. Hormones are already telling the mother's body what will be. Hormones decided long before the baby could hear or see what it was going to be - in some cases, even before the baby was a sparkle in his or her parents' eyes.

We are, unfortunately for the thinkers among us, slaves to our hormones. Before birth, our gender identity has already been determined (and I say gender here on purpose). Our hormone levels are determined, which leads us to certain sets of choices and it's measurable - in your ring finger. Depending on how long your ring finger is compared to your index finger, scientists can tell how likely a person is going to have certain traits associated with estrogen or testosterone. These traits extend from physical things like muscle mass, to learning disabilities, and personality traits (I'll link a bunch of articles about this from my lappy later I promise!).

So...unless you believe souls choose their parents, you are not the captain of your fate... Not completely. This jury's rigged.

But what about the role of mothers? We're just as ensorceled by hormones as our fresh pink babes! Before they thought parents treated boy and girl babies differently because of cultural expectations (gender roles etc). Now they know it has to do with hormones. Women are just as responsible for choosing the sex of their baby as male sperm are for confirming it. Eggs are predisposed to X or Y based on the mother's hormone levels.

And guess what? Women with higher testosterone *tend* to have boys. Women with higher estrogen *tend* to have girls. This is because testosterone and estrogen are linked to personality traits - ways of being. Higher T makes you take initiative, more risks, and generally be more assertive. Higher E makes you more cautious, responsive and empathetic.  Women with higher T are better mothers to boys because they understand them better. Their personalities match. Likewise the opposite is true about high E women with girls.

Could you imagine the DISASTER that would happen if a woman with really high E levels tried to raise a son? Or the opposite? It wouldn't really work - not for the extreme ends of the spectrum.

As soon as babies pop out, mothers have already subconsciously started responding to their babies in certain ways, ways of which they are completely unaware. It just doesn't matter if you know the sex or not. All that gender stuff is predetermined.

Thanks hormones!

So where does that leave us progressively-minded ladies who want our children to feel more equal? Well, we do have some control. We can make our children feel more or less powerful. We can tell them they have more or less opportunities. We can tell them they have to stay in a narrow box or we can let them honor their preferences, skills, and talents.

All this is to say, finding out the sex doesn't seem to matter one way or another. Our bodies already know. Things are already in motion. It's a preference. And maybe it's related to not wanting monster truck onsies or frilly purple tutus as opposed to how we'll look at or hold our babies.

P.S. I really don't like monster trucks or frilly tutus. Let's keep it to yellow duckies and kelly green frogs shall we?