24w, 2d. Have you ever wanted something so terribly much that when you're close to actually getting it, you still can't believe your good fortune?
Yesterday was one of those days for me. I went in for a growth scan--basically a quick ultrasound my maternal-fetal medicine specialist has asked that I do every four week until 36 weeks (at that point, I'll be going for them weekly) to measure the baby's growth and ensure that my high blood pressure isn't restricting it. There, I said it--not just the baby but her. I'm still in disbelief that we're going to be parents of a daughter. In such disbelief that despite my feverish shopping spree over the past few weeks (I seriously could not help myself), I've been thinking about other friends who might be having daughters and what I should pass on to them now or just give away because surely at one of these ultrasounds a sonographer will tell me that they've been mistaken and this baby is in fact another boy. I know, I know--it's crazy. (And despite bagging up all of our sons' super masculine baby boy clothes for donation--we're keeping the more gender-neutral stuff--I still haven't been able to bring myself to drop it off; WHAT IF WE NEED IT BECAUSE THIS IS A BOY?!) I mean, the sonographer at our anatomy scan tried to point out labia and ovaries to my husband and me (but really, you could have told me just about anything and I would have nodded and pretended to understand what she was looking at--yesterday I thought we were looking at the brain when she typed in 'bladder' on the screen). And this time, I could have sworn we had an unobstructed view of the vagina--but then the sonographer asked if we knew the sex or wanted to know, and I said, "YES! It's--well, we were told it's a girl. Is it still a girl?"
She looked at me like I was crazy because obviously girls don't magically turn into boys in utero--and I get that--but I've also heard so many stories of people being told one thing and then being surprised by a child of the other sex at birth. How does that happen--and if it does, why couldn't it happen to me?
Anyway, um, yes, she's still a girl--and she looks totally healthy as of now. Like, 91st percentile healthy (approx. 1 lb, 13 oz.)--which kind of astonished the doctor and sonographer because they're used to seeing the opposite with high blood pressure. I even got a high-five from the doctor when I gave her my most recent blood pressure readings, which have thankfully been pretty close to normal. We're not out of the woods yet, though--she let me know that blood pressure often rises again around 30 to 32 weeks, and if mine does, I'll be going on BP meds at that point--not just the baby aspirin I'm taking now.
But for now, I'm tremendously thankful to have a healthy baby--and a healthy baby girl at that. After 12 boys and zero girls born into my husband's family over the past three generations, she kind of seems like a miracle to me. And all of a sudden, as I was floating out of the doctor's office, I was reminded of the dream family I used to conjure up when I was a little girl; I used to say that I wanted three kids--two older boys and a baby girl. And (knock on wood) I think I might just be getting that. Well, unless she magically turns into a baby boy before my next ultrasound.
Have you ever had a hard time believing just how lucky you could be when it comes to your family? Leave a comment.