Can I Go Where You Go? - Pablo Gavi

18 weeks

18 weeks into Isla's pregnancy

Do you know what happens 18 weeks into a pregnancy? You get to find out the gender of the baby.

Right now Gavi's driving the two of us to the gender reveal party his sister, Alana and Mikky put together at Camp Nou.

We entrusted Aurora with the secret, so only she knows the gender, not even Gavi and I know it. We have a few names picked out either way, but we're not set on anything yet. I have to constantly reassure myself that I still have half my pregnancy before I have to pick just one name.

It's not long before we pull up to the stadium, Gavi's hand on my thigh. The streets up to the stadium are sporadically used by cars but appear empty of fans. Looks like they have not got wind of the party being thrown at the stadium yet. I don't have high hopes for the streets to be equally deserted when we go to leave the party.

It's okay, Gavi and I have posted plenty of pregnancy photos and after our announcement in the World Cup semi-finals it is no secret. The party won't be a secret for long either, since Lily has promised to handle mine and Gavi's social medias for the day.

"You're sure you don't have a preference?" I ask Gavi for the third time today as we park and I start to gather my things to get out of the car. He got out of really answering the first few times by showering and then making breakfast.

He leans over and pecks me on the mouth. "Either way I am happy."

"Yeah, I know you'll be happy either way," I say, "but between us, would you rather it be a boy or a girl?"

Gavi takes the keys out of the ignition and hands them to me to put in my purse since he has few pockets. "I'd rather know the gender so we can stop calling it an it." He opens his door and gets out. I open my door too, but before I can get out Gavi has rushed over to my side of the car and is holding it open, his other hand out for me to take. He helps me out of the car and I hold onto his arm as we walk inside.

"Come on," I prod, "you've got to have preference."

He shakes his head, chin tilted up, a small smirk creeping onto his lips. "I don't. All I want is a kid to hang out and play futbol with, I can do that with a little girl or a little boy."

"What if they don't like futbol when they grow up?"

"I'll teach them young," he jokes. "But in all seriousness that's find too." I have no worry our kids won't like futbol since I'm a strong believer in the ideology that kids do and love what their parents practice when the kids are young. It's not about trying to make them love futbol, it's about showing them how much we love it. "What about you?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"All this pressing makes me think you've got a strong opinion on it."

I shrug. "Not really." I've been busier thinking about what Gavi would want and haven't really considered it myself. As much as I'd love a daughter, I don't know if I'd want to have to let her go through everything I have simply because of something she can't control. And on the opposite end, would a son be harder to raise because I've never been a little boy? It's probably best not to overthink it, Gavi and I have each other and we'll be as great of parents as we are futbol players. I hope.

We walk onto the field and see all the decorations the girls have set up. I have a feeling a lot more people helped put this together then I originally anticipated. There's a red and blue balloon arch over each goal post and on one half of the pitch there are so many tables with seats for guests---how many people are coming?

Gavi and I head over to the group of people---players for the most part---near the close goal post. As we walk I take in all the pink and blue decorations along with everyone wearing either pink or blue, depending on which gender they think the baby is going to be.