Tony always wondered about male gynecologists, and was convinced that this was a relatively normal line of thinking under the circumstances. Of course, in years past he would have made all kinds of observations and remarks and debated whether this meant that the man in question was very interested in his subject or if it was all very clinical with him.
Oh, alright, he probably would have made those remarks anyways, but he felt too jumpy today, and Pepper would be peeved and he was already working on trying to keep Pepper from being peeved over the shoe-fight. She was at a lower heel level than she usually wore, but he knew full well that the recommendation was for flats. And then there was the fact that according to everything he'd read on pregnancy and feet, her old shoes weren't going to fit after she was allowed to wear them again. He had JARVIS cataloging her shoe collection, and was debating just silently switching out everything for a larger size so that she'd never know the difference. Possibly. Pepper did have a scary memory for her shoe collection.
And thinking about a meltdown over shoes was still easier than some of the alternatives. He rubbed her hand, reminded himself not to clutch at it. This was a thing. This was their baby, they had seen grow bigger and now distinctly baby-shaped on ultrasounds before. "Oh, I really think it's too late to change my emotional attachment to a pronoun," he said lightly in return. "Not that we wouldn't love a boy, of course," he said, addressing the baby because that was supposed to be a thing now. "Or that they can't decide they are absolutely the other gender, or sex, because that's always a possibility."