Last Thursday evening, after a long, drawn out ultrasound due to my baby sleeping through the entire thing, despite my greatest efforts to wake her up, I found out I am carrying a daughter. When the ultrasound technician scanned between her legs and asked what I see, all I could respond with was, “Honestly? Blobs… I have no idea what I’m looking at!” My husband saw it right away. The ultrasound technician asked me again. I was nervous to answer because I still had no clue what I was really seeing.
“You’re having a little girl!” he said. I covered my mouth and burst into tears. I couldn’t believe it. And yet, I could. I had longed for a daughter from the moment I made the decision to become a mother. As soon as I realized that I had the date of conception wrong with this child, I knew she was a girl. Up until my first ultrasound, I figured I was carrying another boy.
Maybe I should backtrack? As you may have read, in one of my previous posts, the planning of this child was anything but easy-breezy-go-with-the-flow. I pulled out the big guns: temperature tracking, ovulation sticks, and a mission to conceive. You can read about it here. Well, fast forward to my dating ultrasound, and as it turned out, I had actually conceived the month prior. I was 10 days further along than I had meticulously calculated. When this information was presented to me, my intuition chimed in: Your daughter is on her way. Of course, being the controlling Type A person that I am, I buried this information deep inside. After all, wasn’t I convinced that Sawyer was a boy up until our sex reveal party? If there’s one thing that experienced taught me, it’s that whatever I think I sense/feel, the opposite will be true. So I proceeded to proclaim that I must be having a boy. Another son. A little brother for Sawyer to bond with. And yet… The nagging feeling that I’m carrying a girl prevailed.
The majority of my family and friends called it from the start. I didn’t believe them. I didn’t want to. I got annoyed when people said, “Oh, I know it’s a girl!”, “It’s for sure a girl”. Yeah okay… Do you have x-ray vision or something?
The date of my 20-week ultrasound was fast approaching. After much discussion with the old ball and chain, we decided to find out the sex of the baby. Initially, after having Sawyer, I thought my next experience would be a “true surprise” but about 6 weeks prior to the appointment, and many in-depth discussions, the decision was made to find out the sex of the baby.
Our reasoning for it was that it would help us refer to the baby as sister or brother when speaking to Sawyer; I would be able to bond better as I had found I did once I knew Sawyer’s sex; we’d be able to narrow down names; and really, we’d be honouring our truly curious nature and our lack of patience (haha).
So naturally, one week before the appointment, I decided I did’t want to know anymore. What did it matter? I’d love the baby no matter what. This is most likely our last baby and therefore last chance to have that magical delivery room surprise. And building up the anticipation is fun… Right?
And as quickly as that decision was made, so was the one to, indeed, find out the sex of the baby. And on the day of the ultrasound at that! How Jeff didn’t lose his shit on my indecisive ass is a testament to his unconditional love for me, I swear!
So there we were, at the ultrasound clinic. My belly covered in gel, tears rolling down my face, and a newfound trust in my intuition. A sense of peace overcame me, despite my outwardly displays of excitement. I couldn’t stop exclaiming, “A girl! I’m going to have a daughter! That’s my daughter!”
Do I wonder what the excitement could have been like had I waited until birth? No. I truly don’t. I understand why people wait to find out the sex of their baby, and I respect that. But that’s just not me. And the older I get, the more I come to accept what is best for my personality. And knowing the sex of my children before their birth is one of those things 🙂