"I know the sex of my baby, but I'm not telling my husband."

I know the sex of my baby, but my husband doesn’t.

This was not a planned or particularly well thought out decision of mine. When the sonographer at the 18-week ultrasound asked me if I wanted to know the sex, I quickly blurted out, ‘yes!’

I’d had the opportunity through prenatal testing to find out earlier, but I’d declined. ‘Why would you want to spoil one of the biggest surprises the world has in store for you?’ I always thought.

We have one beautiful three-year-old daughter, and neither of us wanted to find out if she was a boy or girl in the lead up to the birth.

I know what’s coming…My husband? Not so much.

But this time, not knowing was eating away at me. I needed to know if our family was going to be evened out or if my husband was about to be severely outnumbered. If I told you I wasn’t favouring one over the other I’d be lying. I wasn’t going to be disappointed either way; I just wanted to be prepared for the outcome in advance.

My husband’s reason for not wanting to find out is different. He missed the birth of our daughter, and wants to have the whole gender reveal, ‘It’s a girl/ boy!’, in the delivery room.

I’ve let him know that it doesn’t quite go down like that. When I had Amelia, there were no trumpets or doves singing. I unceremoniously asked the doctor, ‘WHAT IS IT?’ when it became clear that everyone in the room knew the sex except me. And there were a LOT of other people in the room…

Since I’d already had her before my husband even got on a plane home, I asked if he wanted to know what we had. He didn’t. And so she remained unnamed (we’d already picked a name for each) for seven hours until he arrived at the hospital.

But this time around, as busy working parents we never got around to having the ‘should we find out?’ conversation before the scan. I knew that he didn’t want to find out, but I still hadn’t decided what I wanted to do. Well, until I found myself alone in the ultrasound room.

For weeks, I managed to keep it a secret that I knew. And then one weekend he turned to me and said, ‘You know, don’t you?’ To which I (am a terrible liar) said, ‘Er, no…um, maybe.’

He wasn’t too annoyed, but STILL doesn’t want to find know what we’re having.

For some, they can’t wait the entire 40 weeks to find out. For others, it is wanting a tiny slice of control when you have none over what your body is doing. For others, it has to do with gender disappointment, and for some it’s about being organised. You can paint the baby’s room, start buying clothes, toys, and prepare older siblings.

Except when one partner knows and the other one doesn’t, you can’t do any of that.

Every statement becomes loaded. Trying to work out names gets awfully tricky. Last week we attempted to sort out Amelia’s old – and mostly pink – baby clothes. (Which all now magically have yellow breastmilk stains, why is that?).

Him: ‘Why are you getting rid of that one?’
Me: ‘Look at the stains!’
Him: Hmmm.
Him: ‘How much of this are we keeping that we don’t need to?’
Me: ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’

It’s killing most of my friends too. ‘Just tell me, and I won’t tell anyone,’ they plead. But I know if I start spilling to one person I’ll lose track of who I’ve told. And someone will drop the baby bomb, forgetting that my husband doesn’t want to know.

So what am I having? I’m sorry; I can’t tell you either. There’s a very good chance he’s going to be reading this.

Did you find the sex of your baby? Or if you’re yet to fall pregnant, are you planning on finding out?