Finally, by this time tomorrow, I’ll have gotten a better look at this little peanut in my stomach. Of course, I’m really excited. Of course, I’m also a little anxious. And really, I kinda sorta can’t wait for the thing to be over.
I can’t help but have a throwback to my last sonogram in 2008. I arrived at the appointment with eyes so swollen they warranted a Jackie O. sunglasses coverup thanks to the little (OK, kinda big) pity party I threw an hour before. I had to head out to the appointment uptight and alone, my husband unable to join me at the last minute despite high hopes and a lot of schedule rearranging. I was terrified of getting bad news and having no one to bear it with except maybe a lousy office assistant who chomped her gum and told me I was going to be a “rock star” mom—rock star as in Bon Jovi rather than awesome or amazing, unfortunately.
My brother-in-law was here over the weekend and asked what gender we’re hoping for this time around. “Don’t say you just want a healthy baby,” he joked. It’s a cop-out response, but isn’t it also the truth? I wouldn’t say I over-worry, but it will be nice to have some anxieties put to rest. And if that isn’t the case, then I’m ready to start educating myself.
But what do I think I’m having? Well, that seems to change on a daily basis. My pregnancy has been so different this time (prolonged morning sickness) that it’s led me to believe we’re not having what we had last time—meaning it’s a girl. And maybe I kind of want a girl. I come from stock that’s rich with xx chromosomes (I’m one of four girls; my mom is one of five). If nothing else, it’s nice to know you’ve got one of each.
But, maybe it’s a boy. I constantly refer to the baby as “him.” Perhaps this is some subconscious motherly intuition, but it’s more likely a habit that formed during the last four months of my last pregnancy, not to mention his life outside of the womb. And, as for boys, I’ve learned from experience that I love them. And how fun for my boy to have a little brother.
At the ultrasound three years ago, everything became wonderful as I watched the little person inside me show off his acrobatics. Rather than find out the gender without my husband (he really wanted to be there), I asked the ultrasound technician to write the gender on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope. As new parents, this was something we needed to do together. We opened it up sitting across from each other on our bed, and gave lots of hugs and “Can you believe it?” exclamations. Finding out the gender makes it so much more real.
We headed out immediately and bought a little something blue. We had also placed bets, so I got a new pair of shoes.
In all actuality, the same thing could happen tomorrow that happened in 2008, and I’m trying to be an adult about it. Curtis has been told he’ll have the afternoon off but he works in health care and those schedules are never to be trusted. So, will I be a nervous wreck? Probably. And will I find out the gender if he’s not there? Probably not. But maybe this time I’ll have someone make me a cake.
And get another pair of shoes.
Did you have to go to your sonogram appointment alone? Were you as nerve-wracked as I was/might be tomorrow?