When I was pregnant with Ben, all I wanted (and thought) about was how much I really wanted to have a baby girl. I was beyond floored that my child was a boy, when I saw his twig and dangle-berries floating merrily in his sea of amniotic fluid. And I’d be lying if I told you that it was an easier mindset to frame.
See, when you have a baby with a man you hate, the last thing you want is a son that may turn out just like him. I wanted the son, sure, but did I really want one JUST LIKE HIS FATHER? I guess it’s kinda hard to explain unless you’ve been through it.
When the ultrasound tech asked me if I wanted to know what I was having when I was pregnant with Alex, I can honestly tell you that I was Zen with either result. Over the 5 years between them, I’d gotten over cleaning the privates (very, very different and weird), gotten over the ugly clothes, and started to embrace all things boy. But I was indifferent with the result of our humpin’. Providing the baby was healthy, I was okay with either gender.
And when we got pregnant this time, after my two-in-a-row miscarriages, I spent the first many weeks pretending that I was not, in fact, pregnant. Mainly so that I could safely function for the rest of my family, rather than be consumed with worry.
While I was thrilled when the US tech pronounced this baby healthy three weeks before Thursday, since we had to go BACK for the heart and brain views, I still worried. I mean, it’s not like a child can live without those, right? And when she said that I MIGHT (but don’t do any shopping–she warned) be having a girl, I suddenly realized that this, THIS was what I had wanted.
I’m sure that I’d wanted it all along, the daughter to my other two sons, but I don’t know that I ever admitted it to myself. What good was hoping for something so out of my control that it’s laughable? I know that there are ways to do this, but I was pretty happy taking my chances.
It wasn’t until she told me that I might be having a girl (or at least a penile-y challenged boy) that I realized just how MUCH I’d wanted it. I wanted it so much that I’d see little girls during that three week wait and hope furiously that I wouldn’t be the creepy older woman secretly mourning not having produced a daughter.
So when immediately after putting the goop and the transducer on my belly, she said, “Looks like you ARE having a daughter” I might have cried a little. Perhaps more than a little. Being someone that rarely cries in the absence of physical pain, this shocked me.
Several long minutes later, having pronounced my daughter the picture of help, the Sausages were allowed back to see their sister.
Ben had been secretly pining for a sister, too, so this was incredibly welcome news. He was so tickled that the formerly cold US tech offered him not only his own picture, but a frame to put it in (Thank you, Similac!).
Even Alex stopped his normal wiggly antics to sit in silence in Dave’s arms while he was shown His Baby. Then, once Dave lovingly put the picture of Ben’s new baby into the frame, Alex promptly stole it and wandered around the waiting room to show the roomful of patients “his baby.”
Looks like The Sausages are all pretty excited about the new addition. Which I’ll savor for as long as THAT lasts.
And I haven’t stopped shopping long enough to eat, which is really saying something. Any ideas where I can get some decent girl clothes that don’t have “princess” written on them? Or look like they’re designed for miniature strippers?