by Vicki Brown

Created on: July 17, 2008

They are called old wives' tales for a reason. They are from old wives' and they are tales. They are quaint and colorful. But, I wouldn't choose wallpaper or buy baby clothes in pink or blue by a prediction based on someone's grandmother's old wives' tale.

I've had three children. They are all adults now. Ultrasounds weren't what they are now and no one even guessed what the sex of the baby was. No medical professionals anyway.

I did hear a lot of ways that would determine the babies sex. One was for the pregnant woman to lie down and someone else would hang a pencil tied to a piece of string. If the pencil twirled in one direction the baby was a boy. If it twirled in the other direction the baby was a girl. My friends and I tried it several times and according to the all-knowing pencil I was pregnant with some form of mutant. Or a litter!

Another one that I loved was the no-fail Drano test. The pregnant woman peed in a cup and then put a small amount of Drano in the cup. The color of the Drano laced pee determined what sex the baby was. I tried this one during my third pregnancy a lot. I had two boys and wanted a girl this time. If the pee turned the 'boy' color I threw it out and tried again. I don't know how many times I tried this one or how many times it came out boy or how many times it came out girl, it was very unreliable. I even tried a similar product but not Drano. I did have my little girl. So, the test "worked" at least once.

During my first pregnancy, the older women at church were sure I was going to have a girl because I was carrying so low. I had a boy. I had a boy the next time even though I carried the baby low that time too. And the third time, pregnant with my daughter, I carried low again. I just carry my babies low. Sex has nothing to do with it. The sex of the baby I mean. Obviously, sex had a lot to do with all of my pregnancies!

I can see the benefits of knowing if you are having a boy or a girl. My daughter and her husband knew from an ultrasound that they were having a girl. When she was born, Eleanore Victoria, had a wardrobe of pink and pink and more pink. Any other color had ruffles or lace. Ironically, her room was done in green and yellow. They didn't want to make her world too pink. Now, at the age of ten, she hates the color pink. I don't blame her. Too much of anything is too much.

I suppose if an old wives' tale gets handed down through a family, they might have more credibility. But, I've noticed that even with the new technology available, a lot of couples choose to wait and find out the sex of their child the old-fashioned way. I think it adds to the excitement. Prospective parents always say they just want a healthy baby. I think they should just leave it at that. That is the true miracle of birth.

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