A Son

There are very few days in my life when I've had my mind completely and utterly blown. I love surprises . . . I'm just pretty observant and organized and goal-oriented, and the truth is there just haven't been very many instances at ALL where I've been truly and completely surprised. I'm very rarely caught off guard because I know where I'm heading and I know what to expect. I can usually spot something coming.

I didn't see this coming.

As predicted, I was a hot mess of nerves in the 24 hours leading up to my appointment. I was anxious that evening, trying to keep busy to keep my mind off of obsessing about the next morning. I had already been through all the "what ifs," had traveled down every road mentally. And I knew, KNEW what was coming. We went to bed that night talking girl names.

That night, I had a mildly disturbing dream. I was spending time with another man, a man I ended up kissing. I felt all the excitement of a first kiss, something I had given up on ever feeling again. Then I realized I had to tell him that I was married, and that I had to tell TH that I had kissed another man. Terrible, right? I woke up bothered and immediately told my husband about my dream that had bummed me out. He asked how I had felt kissing the other man, and the one clear emotion I remember was excitement. The excitement of something new. Then he wanted to talk about what would happen in real life if that ever actually happened, and I told him we might as well talk about what would happen if I had sex with a unicorn because that was an equally likely scenario. The we laughed and went on with our morning.

When we settled into the exam room, our nurse asked us if we were finding out the sex (which got a perhaps too-loud "YES!" from both of us) and if we had a guess.

"Oh, I am absolutely positive it's a girl." I said.

She laughed and I caught a hint of patronizing tolerance in her chuckle, and I got the sense she had heard that kind of thing before.
 
She could laugh all she wanted. I was positive. I had been over and over and over all the benefits of having two girls. My head and my heart were prepared for sisters.

This is when I let you in on a little secret: when TH and I decided to try for our second, even though I agreed not to temp and chart, I told him that we at least had to use OPKs so that I would know when I was ovulating so that we could try for a boy. I do believe in the science behind Shettles, and I told him that I wouldn't be able to be satisfied if we didn't at least try for a boy. He agreed. We got pregnant (surprise!) about three weeks before I would have started using OPKs. Through the first trimester, I realized that getting pregnant before I had "planned" was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. It removed all semblance of control, truly leaving everything up to chance and, if you believe in that kind of thing, fate. If we had actively tried for a boy, and still ended up with another girl, I would have been disappointed NOT in the girl, but in my own apparent lack of success. And I didn't want to EVER be disappointed in the sex of my child.

So through the first trimester, I prepared myself for the girl. I brainstormed all the pros. I focused on all the benefits. And along the way I realized that a little girl would, actually, be perfect for our family. Yes, we'd get to reuse all of our stuff, all of our gear, all of those tiny, adorable outfits that baby girl only got to wear once or twice before outgrowing them. Yes, baby girl would get a sister, a soul mate and confidant to share her life with. Yes, I'd get another child who is, let's face it, the calmer and easier of the two sexes, at least for the first 10 or so years. But really what got me was that I'd get another sweet, cuddly girl, who makes my heart explode with her smile and her lilting laughter and the twinkle in her eye. Basically, I couldn't imagine a boy making my heart explode into a million pieces every second the way my daughter does. I fully understand that this is because I only have a little girl, so I can only understand feeling this way about a little girl. I know that moms of boys feel this way, too, about their sons. But still. There it was. In my efforts to see the benefits of having another girl, to prepare myself, to keep myself from being disappointed if that were the case . . . I ended up in a place where all I wanted was another little girl.

And maybe it was because I was thinking about girls so much that girl-girl-girl was just always on my mind. Or maybe it was because I have only ever been pregnant with a girl, so I couldn't really imagine being pregnant with anything but a girl. Or maybe it was because the heart rates were so similar for each appointment of this pregnancy as they were with baby girl. Whatever the reason, not only was I ready for it to be a girl . . . I honestly believed it was a girl in there.

Hopefully now you have some sense of my mental state going into that appointment yesterday, climbing up on that exam table and answering the nurse's question. Why I said I was positive it was a girl, and why there was such a smile on my face when I said it.

She then asked TH what he thought. "A boy," he said. "I think it's a boy." This wasn't a surprise to me. He thought it was a boy simply because, he said, I was SO sure it was a girl.

The nurse seemed relieved that at least each of us thought different things, so we wouldn't both be shocked if the outcome were something unexpected.

She began the ultrasound.

Immediately my baby's beating heart flashed onto the screen. Arms moved, and we saw long legs bent at the knees. We watched as the baby waved at the camera, then moved a hand toward its mouth. We saw the mouth open to suck on the hand. We saw the two halves of the brain and the stomach bubble that meant that amniotic fluid was already been swallowed, like it should be. Then, when we had oo'd and ahh'd and laughed over ever little squirm and detail, it was time.

"You want me to take a guess," the nurse asked one last time, "if I see something?"

"Yes!" we replied excitedly. My eyes were glued to the screen as she started flashing back and forth across the babies butt, trying to get a good angle. She seemed to be struggling to find the right view, but with each move, I strained to see if I could tell what was there before she said anything. And with each flash, though she was dissatisfied with her angle . . . I started to see something.

Flash (what the hell was that?)

Flash (uhh . . . there's something pointing OUT from my baby's genital region.)

Flash (no really. there's something THERE.)

I became aware that my heart had started pounding in my ears.  I realized that was what people were talking about when they wondered if other people could hear their heart beat.

Flash (holy shit. That's not three lines on the inside.)

And then she caught her angle. And there it was, plain as day. And she laughed and said, "Woah! Uhh . . . . I think . . . no, I'm pretty sure we're seeing a boy here! I mean, there's not really any mistaking that!"

And I, somehow with my chin hanging on the floor, managed to say something along the lines of "Oh. My. God."

And I laughed. And stared. And TH laughed. And looked at me. And I said, "Oh WOW." In fact, I think I said "Oh WOW" like 50 times. No lie. I would start to say something, begin to put together a coherent thought and sentence, and then just trail off and say, "oh WOW!"

My mind was officially blown. For the first time in a long time, maybe even for the first time ever, I was utterly and completely caught off guard. Despite the fact that this all started, three short months ago, with the goal of trying for a boy, I had spent the interim time preparing myself for a girl. I was emotionally unprepared to see a penis on the screen.

What an incredible, amazing rush of emotions that was.

The nurse left, with a still shot of my son's very obvious penis on screen, and we waited for the doctor to come in to confirm. That period, between nurse and doctor, was full of incredulous laughter and wide eyes and me putting my hands to my cheeks and over my eyes, full of incomplete thoughts and sentences, full of "WOW." I wanted to yell and run around, shaking people by the shoulders. I wanted to give release to the overpowering swell of emotions that was swirling inside me. And the only thing I could do was sit on the table, tummy still goopy from the ultrasound gel, and cry. Not cry-cry per se, but amidst the wide smiles that cramped my cheeks and the wide eyes and the "wows," tears leaked sweetly from the corners of my eyes, the only release my body had left available for the emotions within.

I think my husband was worried my reaction was negative, that I had spent so much time thinking about and preparing for a girl that I was disappointed in my boy. And I think I freaked him out a little by not being able to speak coherently.

He reached out a tentative hand to touch my back, as if worried I might explode upon contact.

I had to eek out a breathless, incredulous, "I'm happy!!"

And I was. Beyond happy. Thrilled. Ecstatic. Shocked. Incredulous. Elated. I wasn't getting my girl. It was true. There would be no sharing of clothes, no sisters. My vision of my children was gone in an instant.

But I was getting my son. A new adventure. Something exciting that would keep at bay the feelings of "been there, done that" with this pregnancy. I haven't been here! I haven't done this! A new experience that made my feelings of excitement about this pregnancy and this sibling relationship infused with new found intensity. (It was only later, when the storm of emotions had rolled through and I was left, exhausted, limp with bliss, that I realized that maybe, just maybe the mystery man dream, with the new guy who I had kissed and had such feelings of excitement about, maybe that wasn't a cheating dream after all. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it was my body's way of preparing me for something that was coming.)

The "boy" verdict was confirmed ("110%, without a doubt at all!") by my doctor.

A son. We are having a son.

I do still feel a sense of loss over the girl. I feel pangs of sadness over the loss of my vision of two girls playing together, sharing clothes, sharing the bond that is the sweetness of sisters. We may not ever have another child, so that vision, that reality might very well be gone for good. And I certainly feel justified and right in mourning that. And there's still a twinge in the back of my heart when I tell people we are having a boy, and they explode with happiness in a way that I think may be more exuberant than it would have been with a girl, and when they say things like, "One of each! The perfect family." Two girls would have been no less perfect than one of each. I feel defensive of my second daughter who may never be.

But that's not to say that I am disappointed about the outcome. Quite the opposite. I didn't think I could ever feel so excited about something. I don't think I've ever bee so happy about any outcome before.

There's a lot to get used to now. Using the pronoun he has been a big one. The idea that there's a boy inside me rather than a sweet girl. Hearing the terms son and grandson and nephew have made me explode with incredulity and happiness all over again. We have never looked at the male side of the name books. We have never looked at the boy clothes in stores.

On the way out of the office, we kept repeating something that I hope will stick with me for the rest of my life. "I can't believe how blessed we are." "Blessed beyond deserving."

I am having a son.

I can't believe how blessed I am. Blessed beyond deserving.