First, the Chinese were wrong. Freaking finally.
Second, I will not be scanning and posting any ultra sound pictures. If you want to see what the baby looks like, Google “ultra sound picture.” Yes. It looks just like that. Only cuter, probably. (As I described to Eliott, “We’re going to see the baby, but really, it is going to look like a bunch of thunderstorm clouds on a black and white TV and will probably be really boring, so I’ll bring the iPod for you to play games.)
I’ve heard recently that there’s a new trend (if that is possible) called “gender reveal parties.” I’m guessing it is not a gift giving shower, since no one knows the gender, but I’ve not actually gone to one so I have no idea exactly how the things work. Like, are bets placed? Are there a whole bunch of games that lead you to an answer? Do you show up and see all the blue or pink decorations, eat a cupcake, and leave? Anyway, they seem to be all the rage with new moms these days.
And here I can’t even bring myself to post “It’s a Boy!!” on Facebook.
We alerted our families via text message (if it was good enough for an elopement announcement, it is good enough for baby number three) and I learned that I no longer have my brother’s correct phone number. To “Gretchen” who has no sisters: I apologize for calling you a freak. Also, it’s a baby boy, not one of the teenaged boys you gave your number out to at that under age club last week. Carry on.
A few notes, for the sake of personal posterity:
- Boy parts and girl parts, on an ultra sound, for all intents and purposes, look surprisingly similar. (But then again, when she was pointing out kidneys I thought I was looking at air, and when I was sure she was pointing out other functioning baby organs it turns out she was checking MY ovaries.) Why do all ultra sound techs assume we the uneducated can decipher the difference between all the black and gray blots on the screen? *I did accurately identify the spine.
- The idea that carrying a baby girl makes mom sicker than a baby boy is bull crap. This has been (lest I forget) my most miserable and sickest pregnancy so far. A feat I did not believe possible after Eliott and twenty-one hours of sleep a day for sixteen weeks.
- I am zero for three on gender intuition, however, I no longer believe God might be holding something against me.
- John and I both (admittedly) believe we were secretly harboring a lot of stress and possibly some resentment, at least on my part, in our belief that we were having another baby girl. For honesty’s sake (posterity, you know), I am positive I would love a daughter as much as a son and would come to understand the planning and perfection of it all very soon after her birth. That said, every moment of pain, sickness, headache, and/or other pregnancy woe was partially alleviated in the instant I found out that I’m growing little boy parts.
- I just can’t stop imagining how great of a boyfriend/husband he’s going to be with the training he’ll inevitably get from his two big sisters.
- It won’t hurt my feelings if he gives our tiny monster (Carter) a run for her money, physically and otherwise.
- If he wants to play with ponies and Barbies until he’s eight years old, I’ll embrace it.
- John believes this one is going to be the athlete he’s been waiting for (because, they are both Sagittarius’s?) and it seems fitting that I’ve completed two races with him so far. The fetus I mean.
- Between yesterday and today Eliott has checked in a total of six times, asking, “Is it still a boy?” Today, she followed up with, “What if it comes out and it’s a girl?” I said, “I know. I worry about the same thing.”