All eyes were on me. A slow motion silence. No one uttered a word. I took a breath, reached down and tentatively felt the space between the legs. There was no mistaking the swollen sac and protruding organ. My face contorted into a “just given birth-stunned shock-coming to terms” look. “It is a boy,” I announced to knowing looks. I turned to my husband, “Jasper”?, I asked. Yes, the little being who was within me for nine months was in fact a boy, our Jasper.
I wasn’t expecting a boy. Ever since I can remember, I had a vision of the family I would have. It included two daughters and a loving husband. After all, I had a sister and my parents were a loving enough model; all I knew were girls and I looked forward to imparting my female wisdom to my daughters. Throughout my pregnancy I was convinced I was having a girl. I would have fleeting thoughts of “what if it is a boy” but I always came back to “it has to be a girl”. We decided not to find out the gender at the 20 week ultrasound. We wanted to bond with our baby without any preconceived notions about who they would be. Feeling our baby move and thinking ahead to birth day was that much more exciting. My pregnancy had an aura of mystery about it. I had this little being who was such an intimate part of me, yet I really had no clues as to their identity. I secretly snuck to the computer when my husband wasn’t looking and looked up “predicting your baby’s gender” in Google. I did all the online old wives tales surveys and looked at various Chinese Gender Predicting charts; the results proved inconclusive. I was admittedly somewhat obsessed with wanting to know, even though I really did not want to know. I resigned myself to letting it be and enjoying my baby without any judgements. I spent much of my pregnancy talking and singing to, touching and feeling my baby. I was so looking forward to meeting this baby after getting to know each other so well in utero. We had a collection of gender neutral sleepers and newborn attire. Our blankets and bedding were all shades of green, yellow, brown, and grey with blues and pinks conspicuously absent. I enjoyed telling others that we did not know the gender of our baby and that we were looking forward to the surprise. In fact, everyone looked forward to the unveiling with much anticipation. The old school reveal was indeed an excitement that no one could contain. My husband made the calls as I nursed our boy for the first time. I felt uneasy about my mom’s reaction. She anticipated a granddaughter with the same intensity that I anticipated a daughter. Really? A boy? How can that be? He was beautiful and perfect. He was who he was all along. He was my baby boy, my Jasper, from the moment he was conceived. Reaching down, the moment of finding out who he was certainly made his birth day all the more memorable.
The second time around, I had to know. My husband was adamant that we would only have two children. I panicked. I really wanted a daughter. In this one life of mine, I couldn’t imagine not knowing the mother daughter relationship from the other way around. When trying to conceive our second child, I was attempting to sway things in favor of the X bearing sperm (fodder for another post). It was worth a try but my logical side reminded me that likely, what will be will be, such is nature. I admitted to myself that I had a more difficult time than expected accepting that my baby was not the girl I envisioned. I was sad at the loss of my expectations and it took me a few weeks to accept my baby as a baby boy. I needed time to prepare myself this time around; if it was another boy, I needed to know to avoid any disappointment and move on to bonding to the being that already was. Up to the day of the revealing ultrasound, I found myself trying hard not to put any expectations on the gender of our baby and enjoying the days of mystery. In all honesty though, I was dying to know and looked forward to the day with nervous, giddy anticipation. The technician asked if I wanted to know and I stated “yes” without hesitation. She prattled on throughout her examination, taking the necessary stills of the baby. Her incessant chatter and relaxed manner assured me that the baby was likely healthy and my focus switched back to the gender; she was waiting until my husband was present to share what she could. With my husband present she walked us through what we were seeing on-screen. Finally she said, “You were wanting to know the gender of your baby right?” “Yes!!” I nodded, bracing myself. “Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby girl!”. I cried. “Are you sure?” I asked. She showed the parts that indeed looked girl like and she said if she could say 100% she would. Relief, elation. I was bursting with excitement and happiness. When picking up my son from my parents home after the appointment, my parents were also awaiting the news with bated breath. My husband stated “It is all good” to my mom when she opened the door. Not that finding out we were expecting another boy would “not be good” but I did not hide my hopes and fears regarding the issue. It was all good, indeed.
I will say that knowing the baby’s gender was a different experience. I felt more fearful that something would happen to her. She seemed more real and I couldn’t resist calling her my her name and feeling more impatient to meet her. After all, we had taken one of the most exciting elements of the birth out of the equation, I just wanted to get on with it already. Funny, but at times I wish I didn’t know. Finding out really didn’t change anything. She was who she was the whole time and finding out early didn’t change that fact. Ultimately, I needed to know but if we were to have a third child, there would be no finding out. The mystery is far more magical and there is really nothing like announcing to all at the moment of birth “It’s a boy or it’s a girl”. In this rare instance I would concur that ignorance is bliss.
From Her Womb 