20 weeks into pregnancy number two and once again my mommy senses were right… it’s a boy!
Today we had a Super Bowl themed gender reveal photo shoot. And spare me the “it’s not gender, it’s sex” conversation – I understand that the Y chromosome determines the sex of the baby, not specifically the gender. But it’s weird to call it a sex reveal, right?
And by Super Bowl themed, I mean that we all wore Tom Brady Patriots jerseys – because he’s the G.O.A.T. and the Super Bowl has been synonymous with Tom Brady in a Patriots jersey since I was a Senior in high school. Matt in red, Ryan in white and me in blue – all #12’s – and all with Patriots winter hats on our heads too – it was a balmy 20 degrees near the river in Ipswich today and we were determined to get this photo shoot in wearing our jerseys.
I had been communicating with our favorite local photographer, Amanda Hathaway for a couple weeks about doing a gender reveal shoot – we didn’t want baby #2 to feel slighted since we did a big party when we found out the first time. After tossing around a couple of ideas, we landed on “Super Bowl” themed because of the timing, our love of football and the New England Patriots, and the fact that I was convinced we were having a boy.
We had our ultrasound on Monday, and shortly after we had the result, I ordered a football filled with blue powder that would explode when either punted or spiked (it came from an awesome shop on Etsy: PoofThereItIsReveals). The shop turned the football around in just 2 days and we got our Patriots gear ready (it is Super Bowl week after all) – I just had to keep it a secret for a couple of days.
My cousin, Christina, had agreed to meet us in Ipswich to take video of the reveal since Amanda was taking still photos. So we headed to Matt’s parents’ house (Christina met us there), dropped off the puppy with Matt’s parents, and headed down to Ipswich Town Hall to the old football field to meet Amanda. We made our way out onto the field, shed our heavy winter jackets and got into position… it was time to do the big reveal…
Everything was perfect (other than the freezing cold). And right on cue, Ryan began to cry after the football exploded – I think he’s beginning to realize that he’s not going to be the baby much longer. We got a couple of family photos in before the cold really got to us – but Amanda absolutely NAILED the spike shot. Serious, what an amazing photo.
I’m 2 for 2 on guessing boys. Call it intuition. Call it luck. Call it whatever you want… but I am PSYCHED! I relish being surrounded by boys and to have two of them less than two years apart should be exciting.
I’m not oblivious or delusional – I know it will be a ton of work – but I can’t wait.
I come from a family of boys – five brothers to be exact.And I wouldn’t have it any other way. No offense ladies, but I don’t think I would have survived with a sister. I just don’t jive with females all that well. I’m not programmed that way. A day in comfortable clothes, watching sports (particularly football), and eating buffalo chicken ANYTHING is my idea of a great day. Don’t get me wrong, I love wine and high heeled shoes and brunch too – I just love a football filled Sunday Funday more.
I was never girly. I fought my mom on what to wear because I didn’t want to wear dresses – or anything pink. I didn’t want to play with dolls and I was never crazy about babies. I played sports, climbed trees and had grass stains on almost all of my clothes. I learned how to bait a hook and throw a spiral better than most boys I knew. I fought with my middle school gym teacher to let me play basketball with the boys in gym class because the girls just wanted to sit on the bleachers and gossip – something I REALLY didn’t care to do. I don’t know what it is about me. It’s no surprise I struggled most of my childhood trying to “fit in” since I didn’t really fit a normal gender role.
I think that’s why I’m so excited to be having another boy. I want to teach them how to play sports, be competitive, be humble in victory and gracious in defeat… but always play to win. I want them to run around, get dirty, be buddies, push each other, support each other. Not that I would have treated a girl any differently – but for once I want to feel normal about being “one of the boys.”
I refuse to listen to people who want me to be disappointed that this baby isn’t a girl. Why should I be? As long as the baby is healthy and happy and we don’t screw him up too badly, I’m ecstatic.