Wow, now this is a big post. I mean, the reveal of the sex of our baby! I kind of wish it were 1999 so I could have some great spinning GIFs scattered around this post to heighten the excitement.
As it is 2011, I suppose I’ll have to rely on my words, though, which is a shame. That Ally McBeal dancing baby would do really well here.
So I drank half a gallon of orange juice last Thursday and drove with B to the doc’s. There was a couple who went into the ultrasound room before us, and they emerged beaming and notifying everyone within earshot that their baby was determined to be a girl. I think, “Great, well if they for sure know what their baby is going to be, what are the odds we will too? Probably scant.” Ah yes, always looking on the bright side.
We were ushered into the ultrasound room. It was painted dark blue and had stars and other space objects painted in glow-in-the-dark yellow. I guess this was to maximize the chances that any juvenile hangers-on would feel at ease, which I’ve already pointed out was a massive concern of the practice. But it was pleasant, and the nurse was bubbly and kind, too.
B told me later on that he was quite nervous about the ultrasound, but I never would’ve known it. The ultrasound nurse asked us if we wanted to know the sex if she could determine it, and he quickly answered up, “YES” and followed up with vigorous whiplash inducing nodding. She started the examination and I felt pretty chill, just assuming that Bebe wouldn’t cooperate and flip over to show us what (s)he was. The orange juice hadn’t done much good, and Bebe was clearly at rest, so much that the nurse was having to work a bit to even get a good glimpse of the things that were important, like the development of Bebe’s organs.
But then the nurse gave a little tap on my stomach and Bebe squished around a bit. Enough for the nurse to say,
“Well, it’s smooth. Very smooth. I’m thinking it’s a girl or an extremely stubby little boy.” (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
I asked her to give me a percentage of how sure she was that it was a girl, but she said that she wouldn’t do that because she’s been incorrect before. However, she did commit to it on the photo:
Since Bebe was clearly sleepy, the nurse couldn’t get her in a position where she could assess her developing cerebellum. I’m going back for another sonogram later this week so she can assess that AND hopefully make us know 100% (instead of 90%) that Bebe is a girl.
I have so, so, so many thoughts on this. Is it corny for me to say that B and I both know she’s a girl, right now? Because, we do*. Knowing a baby’s sex is an elective thing these days and I have no doubt that we’d love her the same if we didn’t find out until she was born, but I feel so close to her now that I know this little bit about her.
She is perfect.
Thursday night, I finally felt her swimming around. Pushing and moving. Coupled with the revelation of her sex, the sensation of her moving has made the last few days the most inexpressibly wonderful of my pregnancy. I’m still trying to get the words in order before I tackle what it’s like to feel a little one swimming around.
I’m on a baby high.
*I’ll feel kind of silly come Friday if I have to report that Bebe has developed a blatant masculinity, but oh well.