Yes, I Did
My husband was adamant: "I want it to be a surprise," he kept saying. "After the baby's born, I want to call my parents and say, 'It's a boy!' or 'It's a girl!' and have it be real news."
"But it'll be a surprise no matter when we find out," I'd shoot back. "It'll be real news whenever you make that call."
It's a perfectly logical argument, but Haywood wanted no part of it. When you're dealing with primeval feelings and ancient traditions, he said, logic is beside the point.
But my own feelings, though certainly less tied to ancient tradition, were equally primeval: This baby was growing in my body. This baby was transforming my heart. This baby was going to be one of the great loves of my life, and I wanted to learn as much about him or her as soon as I could learn it.
It wasn't about planning the nursery or buying baby clothes. I just wanted to know -- in the same way I wanted to know whether my child would have a lot of hair like Haywood's dad or my Dumbo-like ears, if he or she would be even-tempered and calm or passionate and volatile. An ultrasound couldn't tell me such things. But it could tell me whether my baby was a boy or a girl.
