It’s agreed, we’re going to find out if you’re a boy or a girl. The list of pros has seemingly outweighed the cons. I’m so excited and massively anxious as I meet Mum at Starbucks before our appointment last Wednesday (it’s Monday now). Half way through my halloumi and zatar wrap Mum walks in and announces ‘right, we’re going to find out the sex.’ Immediately I shit myself at the thought of finally knowing if you’re a he or a she… it’s another step in the many reality checks I’ve been getting the last few months.

It was such an easy process to find out if you’re a boy baby or a girl baby… was it fuck!

After the formalities are taken care of at the doctor’s office which involve an internal scan – which is amazing, checking Mums BP and taking a urine sample we’re sat down and Mum pops up ‘we’ve changed our minds and would like to know the sex. If you could please tell us that would be great’. Doctor: ‘I don’t know the sex’. Oh FFS!!! I’ve been building myself up to hear this information. I am so close to the edge of seat my fat arse has nearly gone too far forward and your answer is ‘I don’t know’. Bollox!

‘What do we (you) need to do to find out and how long will it take?’ They only have to send the request to bloody America who did the test for chromosomal abnormalities. The answers we’re looking for will be with us in a few days. Err, excuse me, what does that mean? Tomorrow? Friday? Are you even open on Friday? If you are open are you rostered on? Oh god! #palmtotheface

Friday rolls around and we find ourselves at Daisy and Rai’s compound pool with Otto giving it large at his swimming ability. He’s bloody good too! It casually comes up that we asked about the sex at our last meeting at which point Daisy has a burst of action and excitement and proudly suggests (tells) ‘ring them, ring them now!’ Mum says ‘I don’t have the number sav…’ ‘I have it, I have it here on my phone’ announces Daisy. Mum and Daisy have the same doctor, you see. Mum starts ringing… Rai has the video on us… I’m once again (you guessed it) shitting myself… after we get through the menu, press ‘1’ followed by ‘#’ for blah blah blah.. doctor is off sick today but we’ll email you and/or phone you. Piss off, I don’t want to know now! Jokes – of course I do.

Now, there were a few issues with Mum’s contact details but anyway Mum calls me midway through Sunday and says ‘I’ve got an email from the doctor but I haven’t opened it as I want to do it together’ I whole heartedly agree and can’t wait till home time. The anxiety is building all afternoon. I walk in, drop my kit bag, pat the dog, kiss Mum… ‘Right then, let’s open this bloody email – I’m shitting myself’. Drum roll please…… we open the email with breath abated… Oh no! Not again!!! It’s a fuckin email confirming that we want the results emailed to us. I storm off upstairs to get out of my work clothes in a right strop!

Mum then decides to email them back saying ‘yes please, email them to us’ then she heads off to boot camp. She’s been doing very well at keeping her exercise levels up, making me very proud. At this point I’m a bit dejected about the whole thing and crack open a beer to console myself while I prepare dinner. Mum gets back and says she’s got an email reply – OMG, I wasn’t expecting this. I haven’t had time for the anxiety to build or shit myself. ‘Shall we open it?’ she asks. To which I respond… well, I’m sure you can imagine my response. She whips open the attached document – little did I know she knew exactly where to look on the report. Before I’d even had a chance for my failing eyes to identify the first word ‘IT’S A BOY, IT’S A BOY, IT’S A BOY!’ Oh. My. Word. I will now stop calling you ‘Bean’… you are now ‘Barry’ until further notice.

Finally I am put out of my misery… never mind all the political correctness, gender role expectations load of BS…you are a boy… you will be my son… you will become a man… you will be the head of our family one day… you will be its protector and you, my son, will be spectacular.

Next morning I finish my morning routine, walk upstairs and step over Rusty who is waiting patiently at the top of the stairs to assume his position at the end of the bed – he’s been in full protection mode with Mum recently. I barely get through the door and ‘Do you want to hear about Barry? He’s 15 weeks?!’

So, you remember I told you Mum has all these Apps and stuff that give out updates… well today you turn 15 weeks old and probably unsurprisingly you are about the size of an avocado. One of your Dad’s favorite foods!

The highlights are your bones and skeleton are forming and you can flex and extend your arms and legs. Perfect for the next phase where we can start to feel you kicking. Your heart is also in full development mode – you’re going to need a strong ticker if you’re to last the full 80 my son.

The only other thing of any interest to report is that Mum had her first pregnancy related day off work today. She didn’t feel well at all. Don’t fret though kid, she’s a tough girl and has shaken it off this afternoon.

Oh yeah, on Wednesday night (day after tomorrow) you will be making your first international flight. We’re off to England (which will be your second favorite rugby team. Oh, I’ve neglected to tell you, while I’m 100% Kiwi and you’re 50% Kiwi / 50% British when it comes to rugby you’re 100% All Blacks – got it 😉 #sorrynotsorry) to see Emma and Jamie get married.. I reckon your Dad is going to thoroughly enjoy their hospitality – cheers!