One moment, I was certain. I could feel it. I was having a boy.
The next, I’d ask myself:
“How would I know? I’ve never been pregnant before.” Me awash with common sense. And hormones.
Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know ahead of time.
24 days before my due date (16 days before I gave birth, as it happened), I was having my first and only sonogram. To prepare, I’d done some reading. In other words, I knew what to look for, if my baby was brazen enough, to determine what its gender was. I knew what the little line of three dots between the legs meant if it was there.
But I still wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Lying on the padded, papered table, I listened to the young technician, who may or may not have won a Miss Congeniality Award at some local beauty pageant, jabber away about size and heart rate and I-don’t-know-what-else, while I tried to convince myself that jelly stuff hadn’t really just come out of the freezer.
Then she got my attention.
“Do you want to know the baby’s sex?” Young Sonogram Tech
“Oh, look — it’s a girl!” Her
WTF? The white paper crinkling beneath me as I craned to see the screen, I said:
She heard me for the first time. “Why?” she asked, “Do think it’s a boy?”
I was looking at the dots. The three little white dots lined up straight as could be, almost glowing in the bouncing sound waves, standing vertical between two obvious legs in what would have been a mortifying crotch shot if that’s when the tech had taken the picture. Unless she had another monitor and I had a second uterus I was unaware of, we were looking at the same image. Was she even newer to this than I was?
It would have been rude to question her competence out loud, so I just said:
“Well, I’ve always thought it was a boy.” Me. Absolutely certain now I was having a son.
And she, blithely oblivious, said:
“Oh, well then it probably is. I’ve found the mothers are usually right.”
Sweet kid, just not one to instill a lot of confidence.
Fortunately, my boy had the decency to roll over and give the camera a profile head shot. He wasn’t going to parade his dots, but, personally, this photo pretty much convinced me I was having a bouncing baby boy alien.
Why don’t parents want to be surprised anymore?