Today is the twentieth week of pregnancy for me and my little soybean. Today was also the big day…you know, the anatomy scan. Eva, my daughter, and my husband and I all went to the appointment. In our eagerness, we left a bit early after some quick Pinterest browsing. We stopped by a Wal-Mart on our way to the appointment with a specific plan in mind. We were going to purchase a box, some wrapping paper, and two balloons. Balloon numero uno was going to say “It’s A Girl”, and the second (okay fine, numero dos) balloon was to say “It’s A Boy”. We wouldn’t have time to get just the one correct balloon after the appointment, so we were going to be prepared and get both.
After getting miscellaneous supplies, we then went in search of balloons. This should have been the final moment of realization that God was trying to tell me something, because there were only boy balloons. There wasn’t a single girl balloon in the entire store. We asked a Wal-Mart employee if there were any that weren’t filled with helium somewhere that we could purchase. She proceeded to check with multiple people and departments and she received the same answer each time–we don’t have any uninflated themed balloons and we don’t inflate balloons anymore at all. Now, the Wal-Mart lady and I both agreed that the other themed balloons (including the six “It’s A Boy” balloons floating about) didn’t just magically appear, but we could not get a better answer. So, we checked out in defeat.
As we were walking to the car, my husband and I both looked at each other with a look that said something along the lines of that was weird.
Almost as soon as the ultrasound technician began the scan, she announced, “It’s a boy,” as she pointed out his obviously male genitalia. Eva and my husband wanted to dance with glee. Me, what was my response, you ask? Well, I focused on the spine and the top of his head and then his fingers and toes. Neural tube defects run in my family, and I communicated this to the ultrasound technician. She checked his spine and skull carefully for me. Everything looked perfectly formed. I sighed with relief at this.
After the ultrasound was complete, we had an appointment with my obstetrician. She made jokes with my daughter and gave her sufficient attention. We reviewed what would be next (3 hour glucose test at the next visit, oh joy) and how my headaches were being managed (still fairly headache free, thankfully). She also informed me that I shouldn’t be lifting more than Eva at this point since I haven’t been regularly lifting more than Eva’s weight in the last month. My boss won’t be happy to hear this tomorrow, and I probably won’t have a job anymore (keep your fingers crossed my writing can bridge the gap) since there aren’t any options that do not require lifting that fit my current availability.
After the appointment, we took Eva to McDonald’s. As we were standing in line to order, tears just started rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them. I just looked at my husband as I turned my back to the McDonald’s employee, asked my politicised husband to help Eva order and scurried away to the bathroom as soon as I received a response. Thanks ever so much, hormones, for making me unable to at least wait until we were in the car to shed a few tears. I stood in a bathroom stall and had a quick chat with myself and God. I won’t be going over those tidbits of conversation since I already sound a bit unhinged (I promise I won’t be starring in the reality show Snapped). But, I will just say that God knows I’m not thrilled with the thought of potty training this boy, or cleaning up his pee stains all over my bathroom for years to come, or teaching him we don’t scratch our balls in public, or countless other gross boy things I could live without.
Once I was done crying, I started weeping for a brand new reason. The guilt. It was overwhelming. I cried in a public place and then had a pathetic, plaintive conversation with God about pee because I’m having a boy. Wow, go me. I’m such an evolved individual. I prayed and cried for this day for 14 freaking months. I thought I would never have another baby, much less a seemingly healthy (I don’t want to jinx anything at this point) baby, ever! There are so many women out there (just look at the blogs I read for a start) that would do and are doing everything possible to conceive, carry, and deliver a child of any gender, how can I be upset about this? Ungrateful, selfish, short-sighted, forgetful, undeserving–those were just a few of the words that came to my mind as I stood there silently, allowing the tears to roll unhindered down my face.
I sucked it up and returned to the lobby where Eva was just sitting down to enjoy her chicken nuggets. We ate and then headed home where we staged a gender reveal photo shoot with Eva being our patient model. Once complete, we revealed to the world of Facebook our news, and Eva reveled in role as the revealer.
As I reflect on my day right now, while my two darlings sleep peacefully (which really translates to ‘snore loudly’), I feel grateful. I’m so glad I get to be a mommy again, and I wouldn’t trade my baby for anything in the world.
Now it’s time to trade in those hand-me-down girl clothes I have been saving for some little boy clothes. Tomorrow is a new day.