The Kid Has Arrived

It’s a boy!

Matt and I went to my midwife’s office today for our 20 week ultrasound, aka the day you can find out (if the baby cooperates) the sex. The tech was talking us through all the steps she was doing. There are two techs in the office, but this one is my favorite because she’s so nice and always goes into detail about what she’s looking for and what she’s seeing. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than lying there on the table while the tech peers silently, with lips pursed, at the squishy thing inside your belly for 15 minutes.

Everything looked wonderful, she assured us. Limbs and digits where they were supposed to be, brain and organs developing on track. She asked if we wanted to know the sex, and we said yes. She squished the baby around a bit trying to get it to cooperate, but she finally got the wand in the right position - it’s a boy, she announced. No doubt about it.

Now, I’ve been telling everyone I thought it was a boy. I’ve been telling everyone that I wanted another boy. I love the close relationship my husband and his brother have. I was the worst kind of sullen, depressive, angst-ridden, unpleasant to be around teenage girl, and I feared the karmic retribution of that being visited upon me in years to come. On the practical side of things, since baby #2 will be born within a few days of Milo’s birthday, all of his clothes will be seasonally appropriate for the new baby to wear. Obviously, a girl could wear most of Milo’s stuff with a few embellishes here and there, but it would be even easier for a boy.

And yet, my friends, as I walked out of the office back into the lobby, I started crying my eyes out. I guess, deep down, I wanted to have a daughter. Matt held me as I cried and tried to pull myself together. He whispered some encouraging words. I sniffled a bit, but got it together. We walked out into the lobby, and I showed my midwife the photos and told her it was a boy. She was thrilled for us and came over to give us a hug, whereupon I started bawling again. I love my midwife. She started telling me some funny horror stories about dealing with her daughters when they were teenagers, and continued to distract me with tales of how she can’t stop spoiling her grandson. By the time I left there, I was feeling better, although I had one more mini-teary session in the elevator with Matt.

“I guess we know now what you really wanted,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I replied, ” I just feel like there are things I’ll miss out on now. Now no one will go with me to the Anne of Green Gables tour of Prince Edward Island,” I sobbed. (I guess this is a major concern of mine.)

“Sweetie, I promise the boys and I will take you there.”

“It won’t be the same. And now I won’t have anyone to play dollhouses with—”

“No, probably not.”

“—or read The Secret Garden to at night.” [This book always comes up because there’s a very funny tale of his mom trying to read that to the boys when they were young and they both totally revolted against it and were too distracted with laughing about how there was a boy named Dickon in it to care about the book’s plot.]

Matt smiled at me. “Honey, that book sucks anyway. But maybe you can still read it to them, you just have to do it when they’re really young. There’ll be lots of other books to read and games to play with boys. Besides, you’re just better with boys in general. It’s going to be wonderful. They’ll grow up to be such good friends. Also, you dress Milo so well, but I’ve seen your taste in girl clothes and I really feel like we’ve dodged a bullet there.”

I had to laugh at that one because there’s a degree of truth in there. I’m a sucker for red velvet dresses and little pink ruffled skirts. Another good thing is that we won’t have to fight over girl names now. Apparently, I like “rich snooty boarding school girl names” (although I prefer the terms elegant and classic), which Matt does not.

Now that I’ve gotten over my initial shock, I’m quickly coming around to the idea of another son. And really, the most important thing is that I’m so incredibly lucky to have a baby who’s developing in a healthy, appropriate manner, and I’m having a healthy and happy pregnancy. I think most of the Tumblr parenting community has been following the sad tale of Rebecca’s little family and her daughter Edythe, who was born with Trisomy 13 last month and died this week. My heart breaks for that family. Following their story has helped keep me focus on what really matters here, that my family is healthy and how incredibly lucky I am for that to be so.