Today was the day. At 17 weeks, 2 days pregnant we went in for THE ultrasound with my specialist. I had one last week with my OB and I've been monitoring the babies on my home Doppler, so I wasn't too nervous about their health, but this was the ultrasound that would tell me if I was destined to have a daughter, or if I'd spend the rest of my days surrounded by tiny humans who spend the majority of their day playing with their penises and taking bigger poops than I do.
Of course, I would be happy with either outcome. These children are our miracles and each one is special. But let's get real -- Mama wants a girl REAL BAD and if I found out it was two boys, I knew I was gonna ugly cry for about 30 seconds and then fall absolutely in love with those boys.
We did our usual wait in the lobby, my knee bouncing as we played “Ticket to Ride” on Dan's phone to pass the time. Yes. We are those nerds.
They called us back, the nurse making small talk, asking "how are you?" I, of course, immediately jumped in, explaining how excited we were go find out the gender and then making an awkward comment about "keeping a lookout for a vagina.”
The gel was on my belly and in under two minutes, we found out we were indeed having a GIRL (Baby A) and a BOY (Baby B). So dreams DO come true.
I immediately started singing from ‘The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee’ “Oh boy... and oh girl! Only two remain. I feel joy. But I also feel pain…” - especially because they press really hard on your stomach for these ultrasounds.
For the next 10 minutes, I was completely over the moon. Thinking about all the fun frilly things I can buy her and how happy Lloyd will be to be having both a brother AND a sister. Then it hit me, I'm going to have a daughter. There was suddenly so much to worry about. Her safety, her sexuality, her body image. I was built like a linebacker growing up. I suffered from an eating disorder in high school along with a lot of self-hatred, despite all the love and support my family gave me. I don't want that for her.
Somehow, for boys it seems to be acceptable to be big. You get a lot of “He's gonna play football someday” which if I have a say in it, no he won't. But when a boy is beefy, he's an athlete. You don't see many beefy ballerinas. Trust me, I know. I tried to be one.
Still, I'm getting ahead of myself. I have a long time to figure out how to handle these things. I’m beyond grateful to have such a problem. Who ever thought that I, the infertile 37-year-old, would someday have three kids?!?!
It was a long ultrasound, so I had lots of time to think. Think about how lucky we are. How old I am. How crazy this whole journey is. How there are two humans growing inside me. Both measuring large and looking good. When we got home, we did a reveal with Lloyd who cared more about the actual cake pops than the gender of his siblings.
It's crazy and wonderful and terrifying and I couldn't be happier. Now excuse me while I go nest and try to sort out just where we put 3 kids in a 2-bedroom home from 1919. It's going to be a full house here in a few months. Full of dirty diapers and tiny clothes. Full of toy cars and crying. But most importantly, full of love (and thanks to Amazon Prime) lots of bows for my baby girl!.