Well readers I can finally share the news I’ve been dying to tell for weeks - I’m going to be a granny again!
Yes, my daughter Emma told me a couple of months back that she was expecting again and I’ve been trying to contain my excitement ever since.
She made me promise to keep my loose lips buttoned until they had the 12-week scan and, after getting the thumbs up, that all is going to plan I can finally shout it from the rooftops.
Ok, maybe I did let the cat out the bag to a few of my closest friends, but apart from that I’ve been really good. It was especially hard to keep schtum when one of my dearest friend’s announced a few weeks ago that her daughter was expecting after overcoming health problems, so I’m glad I can share the good news, after all I’m terrible at keeping secrets.
It’s all very exciting and I’m so happy that Jack is going to be a big brother.
He is desperate to know whether he is getting a little brother or sister and so my daughter and her husband are trying to decide if they should find out the gender.
Now, many health authorities can tell you at the 20 week scan. But NHS Forth Valley’s policy is not to tell you the sex, so they are considering going to a fancy private scan practice at a spa in Glasgow.
This place has all the bells and whistles and offers 4D pictures of the baby - allowing mums and dads to see their little one’s face before they are even born.
She showed me examples of them and they really are incredible, you can make out every little detail, down to their eye lashes and fingernails.
So although it is expensive, they are thinking about booking one so they can tell Jack whether he is getting his much-longed for little brother or the thing he is dreading more than anything else - a baby sister!
The machinery is state-of-the-art and I can’t quite believe just how clear a picture they get - far superior to the grainy black and white scan picture I got when I was pregnant.
Although I’m impressed with the technology, I can’t help but feeling a wee bit disappointed they are going to find out the sex of the baby. To me, it’s like opening your Christmas presents before Christmas morning and means the surprise is ruined.
Emma says they want to know so they can break it to Jack gently if he isn’t getting the gender he hopes for and they can get the nursery and clothing ready. But I didn’t find out with either of mine and we managed just fine.
Nothing can quite match the feeling of going through a long and painful labour and hearing the doctor announce ‘It’s a boy!’ or ‘It’s a girl!’.
To know beforehand must ruin that all important moment - but what do I know? I’m just the granny!