You're never fully prepared for the first sight of your little one to be a full-on straight shot of their vagina. I imagine this would be particularly upsetting if your bean is a boy.
The 20-week (or in my case 21-week because my doctor had the nerve to take a vacation while I'm all busy growing people) prenatal appointment is THE doctor's appointment.
This is the appointment where many moms-to-be get the first good look at the person rearranging all their internal organs. This is where all sorts of measurements are taken to make sure the alien-child is growing at the right speed and has all (and no extra) body parts. And this is where you can choose to find out if your life's savings will be spent on new shoes or car insurance.
Since I was convinced I had killed our bean after the great poop debacle of 2011, I was particularly anxious to just make sure the heart was still going.
I had heard a lot about this milestone appointment from many mothers. The ultrasound takes 20-30 minutes. The tech will start at the baby's head and work their way down the body taking all the appropriate measurements to see if your kid will qualify for the Coney Island Freak Show (which sadly, I do not believe is in existence anymore). Finally, as they are wrapping up their review and you are agonizing with anticipation, you can choose to learn the gender of your baby before you go meet with the doctor to get the all-clear.
Naturally, our appointment went nothing like that. At all.
The tech has me lay down on the table where I roll down the top of my jeans (because you can do that in maternity jeans!!!) and she gets the wand. [As a side note: I'm pleased to report at this stage in the pregnancy the ultrasounds are entirely external.]
She flips on the machine, puts the wand on my stomach and WHAM-O. There she is; legs wide open, showcasing her goods for all who might be interested. That's our little girl.
Guess, we got that out of the way.
Within 10 seconds, Michael is busy texting the world while I wait to make sure little things like the heart, legs and a head happens to be attached to the floating girl parts on the screen. They were.
The tech does her business and I'll spare you details of how cute little baby feet look, even when they are inside your stomach, and how much relief you feel when you see 4 chambers of a heart beating. But that stuff is totally true.
As we're wrapping up, Michael is yammering on about what a relief it is to see everything in working order. Because I'm conniving and have no patience to wait for the doctor to interpret the tech's ultrasound photos, I see my opportunity...
Me: [knowing full well the tech legally cannot tell me if something is wrong with the ultrasounds, but also knowing the tech KNOWS] Well, Michael...don't get too excited yet. I mean, we don't know what's really going on in there. We need to meet with the doctor still [cue dramatic pauses and tension-building music] to make sure everything is OK in there. I mean, the only thing we know is that it's a girl and apparently the heart is still beating. So maybe you should stop texting everyone till will get the all clear [I was really finding my groove now]. We just don't know!!!!
Tech: [beautifully sensing her cue in the soap opera I've now initiated] It all looks great. I don't see anything to suggest otherwise here.
Score 1 for already becoming the manipulating mother type.
Showing posts with label Gender. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gender. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Big Questions
Pregnancy has an amazing ability to transform people you once believed had a brain and were not raised by wolves into regressed turkeys with zero social filter. I mean that in the nicest way possible.
I expected a certain level of curiosity and forward questions to come along with being pregnant.
"Are you going to find out the gender?"
Yes. I will have enough surprises the day of labor; I don't need the gender to be another one. Happily at our doctor's appointment this morning they fixed the antenna on the ultrasound machine and we saw an actual baby inside me and not cheese enchiladas as Michael suspected.
We are growing a little girl. Look! Here she is, aged 21 weeks and weighing in at a whopping 13 ozs.!!!
"So what are you going to name her?"
We're superstitious and will not be sharing the names with everyone. Everyone has an opinion on names and we, quite frankly, don't care about those opinions. We will have a group of names and pick one that strikes us the day she's born. So most likely it will be GetItOut, LizardFace or NowCanIHaveWine.
"So how much weight have you gained?"
Shockingly, this one doesn't bother me. Probably because I've only gained 3 lbs. so far and have discovered the joys and wonders of maternity pants. I will gladly gain 50 lbs. because the new jeans I just bought from 'A Pea in a Pod' will STILL fit. I may never buy regular jeans again.
However, I was ready for these questions. It's the more well-intentioned, yet slightly off-putting questions I was not prepared to answer. Here are just a handful that we've collectively gotten.
"Did you even want kids?"
No. But we're telling everyone about the pregnancy because we're hoping someone might offer to buy her from us.
"Oh, a girl...how is Michael taking it?"
We all know men only love boys; so he's pretty pissed off. See above regarding sale of said child.
[Michael and I are both thrilled that we have a healthy baby growing. Gender did not matter to us. That said, he is currently installing a machine gun turret on top of the house and he added La Femme Nikita to the list of potential names.]
"Are you planning on breastfeeding/co-sleeping/getting a nanny/etc."
Last I checked, this was none of your damn business (barring close friends and family who will be helping to raise this child) and quite frankly your thoughts on child-rearing mean absolutely nothing to me. What did your parents do? I'll make sure to do the opposite.
With the halfway point passed, the bean is back to continually making her presence known. Instead of the perpetual morning sickness of the first trimester, we have constant heartburn. Granted, I should probably lay off the hot sauce (but it's so damn good) and invest in some Tums (but it causes constipation--so, no thank you).
We're eagerly awaiting her kicks and thumps, but for now there are just hints of "was that a kick," "is that a gas bubble" and "is it time for bed yet?"
I expected a certain level of curiosity and forward questions to come along with being pregnant.
"Are you going to find out the gender?"
Yes. I will have enough surprises the day of labor; I don't need the gender to be another one. Happily at our doctor's appointment this morning they fixed the antenna on the ultrasound machine and we saw an actual baby inside me and not cheese enchiladas as Michael suspected.
We are growing a little girl. Look! Here she is, aged 21 weeks and weighing in at a whopping 13 ozs.!!!
"So what are you going to name her?"
We're superstitious and will not be sharing the names with everyone. Everyone has an opinion on names and we, quite frankly, don't care about those opinions. We will have a group of names and pick one that strikes us the day she's born. So most likely it will be GetItOut, LizardFace or NowCanIHaveWine.
"So how much weight have you gained?"
Shockingly, this one doesn't bother me. Probably because I've only gained 3 lbs. so far and have discovered the joys and wonders of maternity pants. I will gladly gain 50 lbs. because the new jeans I just bought from 'A Pea in a Pod' will STILL fit. I may never buy regular jeans again.
However, I was ready for these questions. It's the more well-intentioned, yet slightly off-putting questions I was not prepared to answer. Here are just a handful that we've collectively gotten.
"Did you even want kids?"
No. But we're telling everyone about the pregnancy because we're hoping someone might offer to buy her from us.
"Oh, a girl...how is Michael taking it?"
We all know men only love boys; so he's pretty pissed off. See above regarding sale of said child.
[Michael and I are both thrilled that we have a healthy baby growing. Gender did not matter to us. That said, he is currently installing a machine gun turret on top of the house and he added La Femme Nikita to the list of potential names.]
"Are you planning on breastfeeding/co-sleeping/getting a nanny/etc."
Last I checked, this was none of your damn business (barring close friends and family who will be helping to raise this child) and quite frankly your thoughts on child-rearing mean absolutely nothing to me. What did your parents do? I'll make sure to do the opposite.
With the halfway point passed, the bean is back to continually making her presence known. Instead of the perpetual morning sickness of the first trimester, we have constant heartburn. Granted, I should probably lay off the hot sauce (but it's so damn good) and invest in some Tums (but it causes constipation--so, no thank you).
We're eagerly awaiting her kicks and thumps, but for now there are just hints of "was that a kick," "is that a gas bubble" and "is it time for bed yet?"
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