On Monday Patrick and I went to my 20 week ultrasound appointment. I thought, “Sure we’ll find out if it’s a boy or a girl” but I was so sure it was a girl that I figured they’d just confirm that feeling. After all, I’d been more nauseated, the Chinese Gender Predictor said girl, the heartbeat was really fast, and I was below prepregnancy weight (fyi, there is a study that shows that a woman is more likely to have a boy if she is still carrying weight from the first pregnancy). Clearly, this baby was a girl. That’s what I thought until the ultrasound tech started waving the wand around; once I got oriented, I could see the head and then the legs and then between the legs…and I thought, “No, surely not.” A loong while later, she asked if we wanted to know. And my eyes were right.
The reason this isn’t the post I thought I’d be writing is that I was going to write about how the developing baby is female and how although that doesn’t mean anything really, we were excited to have a girl on the way. Now I don’t know what to write. It doesn’t matter and we’re excited to have a boy on the way. We do have a good name for him, he’ll never need new clothes unless he gets bigger than Seamus quickly, and won’t it be fun for them to have a brother? Yes, I know all this, but I’m still adjusting to the fact that my family is not going to look like I thought. And YES, I know. I’m grateful the baby is healthy and everything looks fine.
So a boy. Somebody has to raise them. Might as well be us.