Today was the day we had been waiting for. At 19 weeks, I was finally due for my first sonogram. We were both excited, and nervous, and scared, and worried, and anxious, and thrilled, and... well, you get the drift. The night before, as we lay in bed, we hoped and prayed that the baby would be healthy and alive and moving around, unlike the time when we had to go in for a sonogram and there was... nothing. We didn't think we could handle a repeat of that, not this far into the game. I went to sleep, expecting nightmares.
And I woke up, nightmare free, with the René Marie version of "How Can I Keep From Singing" playing in my mental soundtrack. A good sign.
We went in, with me worrying that "I don't have to pee enough!" as we drove there. We arrived, and the technician assured me that as long as I wasn't empty, we'd be fine.
She found the baby quickly, and just as she pointed out the head, our little one moved an arm quickly, throwing it above the head, as if saying, "Hi, Mom and Dad! 'Bout time you looked in on me!" The baby was moving and grooving, wiggling around like crazy.
Alive. Thank God. Alive.
She spent the next half hour taking pictures of all the important things (the 4 chambers of the heart, the spine, the head, kidneys, feet, hands, belly, etc.) and taking measurements while we watched in awe. That was our little baby, right there. Moving. Really moving.
We had decided before that we would find out the gender of the baby. We both want to know, and to be able to plan, and quite frankly we just can't wait! My mother-in-law was pretty sure it was a boy. Her colleague at work disagreed, she was sure it's a girl. My sister-in-law had a dream that I had a boy, and her dreams are never wrong. At least that's what she thinks, but my brother-in-law says her record is really great, after the fact. I had a feeling that I am carrying a girl. Last time, I thought it was a boy, and this time I really feel a girl in there. Dr. B is convinced that he is, as he puts it, "DOOMED to be the father of girls."
So then came the hard part. Finding out, for real, the gender of the baby. She worked carefully, having me move from back to side and returning me to my back again, before finally getting the chance we'd hoped for.
"I think you've got a little girl in there..." she said.
Zizou is a girl! With all the bladder-kicking she's doing, I am pretty sure she's a cowgirl, actually.
I dressed, and returned to the waiting room to await my OB appointment. The next hour was a flurry of bathroom trips (all that water caught up to me), visiting with the nurses, talking with the doctor, and getting a flu shot. I have gained the weight I lost plus one pound, so I am officially in the plus column, though I am still wearing regular clothes, for the most part. Our doctor laughed when I said I was worried that I wasn't getting "big enough" yet. "That will change, soon enough," she chuckled.
We walked down the hall to the lab, to have blood drawn for the Quad test and Cystic Fibrosis genetic tests. As we sat together, we discussed names, who we needed to phone, and generally just basked in the glow of knowing that we had a daughter on the way. Dr. B, being the guy he is, was already thinking about how we were going to talk to her about sex. He is such a worry-wart.
Then I saw it. Right there, on his right temple. About an inch long. His very first gray hair.
He really is a Dad.
PS The due date is still June 6.
PPS We're not telling anyone the name until the baby is born. You'll have to wait!
PPS She weighs about 11 ounces right now. My own little can-'o-pop.