BOY!
Well, I won’t lie. I, being a female myself, imagined watching girlie cartoons with a daughter, of teaching her to be her own fashion stylist, of giving her advice about boys and teaching her how to be confident in herself.
As I lay on the table, I began to feel anxious. I had both Vincent and my father beside me. It occurred to me that I was surrounded by men. Hell, even the cats are boys.. and I’ve often considered myself someone who could hang around with the guys, listen to their lingo and their disgusting banter, and get along with it to a nice, balanced degree, without losing my own feminine mystery (shaving my legs, yes it’s a must, even while pregnant). I’d hoped to pass this on to Alice.
We got underway with the examination. First glimpse at the face, and apparently he’s as camera shy as me, since he rolled over so much so that the technician said, “Well, we’ll just come back to that.”
And then, before I knew it, she was pointing out two legs, and my dad was making that, “I know where this is going,” sound, for he had already guessed the answer. It took me a minute, for I was off in wonderland, momentarily checked out of reality. I don’t remember who said it first or how exactly the line went, because I was hearing it in my head, watching the technician put a nice little label on the picture before it printed out declaring, “I’m a boy!”
Somewhere around then, as the technician shifted and began to look over organs and other measurements, I remember distinctly thinking that I was tired, and wishing I could go home and resume this later. I don’t know why I thought that, except I’m fairly keen on assuming I’d entered into a state of shock. Seeing this moving, writhing, little person was very overwhelming. Everything, the tech explained, was fully developed, just not mature. We could see the four chambers of the heart, the spine, the kidneys, and all were measured for documentation. To top it all off, this nameless little thing, a dream that had been within a dream, now was capable of having a name, and a future beyond just speculation. We are no longer wondering, “If it’s a girl, maybe this… or that,” or “If it’s a boy, I hope he’s this… or that.” It’s a sudden reality. It’s a boy. He’s got a heart, a brain, ribs, arm bones… he can do math or play sports. What kinds of conversations would I have with him? What would I ever have in common with him?
So some people like to play the game of, “Well it doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, as long as it’s healthy.” Oh whatever! That’s what I think of those people. Someone who says that either A: hasn’t put the amount of thought or dreamed about their baby at all, or B: they just don’t want to admit it because we like to pretend that it would be rude to say that to our children. It’s as if, we aren’t supposed to hope too much, because any disappointment will cause our children to feel unwanted. “Aww… mom wishes I was a girl, she must really hate me.”
Such silliness prompts me to laugh. After sharing this with my mother, she was so supportive, letting me know that when I was born (she never had a sonogram), she had hoped for a boy herself. It doesn’t hurt my feelings or make me feel like she loves me any less. It makes me laugh, especially since she says, “you’re father knew you were a girl though. He just knew.”
Same with this situation. I n retrospect, I should have paid more attention to my dreams and moreso, Vincent’s. After all, I wanted a girl, so it’s as though I turned that want into a belief that he was and now feel incredibly stupid. Vincent dreamed about having a son, and though he won’t admit it (yeah, he’s one of those that likes to say it doesn’t matter just as long as the baby is healthy!), I know he wanted a boy. He’d had a dream that I had twins. The first to be born was a girl, and he wasn’t there when she was born. Yet when the boy was born, he was in the delivery room and held him. So subconsciously, he wanted a boy, so the dream interpreters would say. I think, for my feelings though, he kept it private.
That being said, I’m so happy it’s a boy. Vincent claims he wasn’t in shock like I was. Yet he was oddly quiet most of the ride home, even went straight away to take a nap after we got home. It’s probably a good thing we both got to go to work today. Sometimes, I know the reality that this is all real takes a while to absorb, and that’s hard to do when you have someone around trying to do the exact same thing. I believe at times it is best to separate, and interact with the outside world so that the information is absorbed, and as daily life continues you begin to realize that this is special and that it has not stopped or railroaded your life. Not to mention you have the opportunity to discuss it with others, observe other people, or just zone out and let your thoughts run wild.
On a side note, I’d hate to give the impression that the whole visit was a solemn occasion. No, it wasn’t a funeral like feeling and I wasn’t miserable at the thought of having a boy. We had a great time. My father asked lots of questions about what the technician was examining, even guessing different body parts. In all honesty, I think she was a little put off by seeing the two of them in there, as my father is fairly intimidating, and Vincent looks extremely young. But even she began to loosen up, sharing more with us, and even laughing.
One thing I will say, our son has a demonic face! I know, I know, all babies look strange. Yet I was so proud to see his evil little face, when we finally did get him into camera view. We were all laughing and joking, so much so, that I think it caught the technician off guard. I’m sure most of them are used to surreal moms, talking about angels and how perfect their baby is. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so proud, but hey, I’m not an idiot either! He’s a little monster, and better to have a demon son as a mama’s boy than not.
After we got his face into view, he continually put his hands up, maybe trying to block us? He probably hates pictures, just like me. Then again, he was getting pummeled with sound waves, which as I understand can be quite loud and uncomfortable, so there is that.
He is his father’s son though. My dad once joked that if the baby took on the best of his family’s genes, along with Vince’s looks, he’d come out like Antonio Banderas (I think my dad figured it was a boy as well). Well, at this time I must say the side profile looks excellent. He should grow up handsomely, which is very wonderful, since my reply at the time had been, “Well what if he gets the worst of all our genes?” Danny Devito? 
Lastly, more good news. The doctor finally came in, letting us know first that everything looks excellent. He’s right where he should be, and at 11 ounces. He’s 19 weeks and 2 days according to their measurements, and on schedule for delivery May 15, 2011.
Also, the specialist informed me that I am indeed, RH negative. They’ve verified my blood type. However, the antibody that was discovered is something called a “cold gluten (?)” meaning it is not active until it is in a cold environment (like 70 degrees and under). The antibody I carry was recognized because when my blood was placed in the test tube, the lowered temp caused it to become active. Thus, in the future, she said this antibody my appear, but they are only specifically interested in something called the D Antibody, the antibody that directly is a result of the RH factor.
So hah! Hahah! I am so thrilled about that. Finally, that’s loads of stress. No more silly doctors asking and double asking if I have ever had abortions or miscarriages before, or blood transfusions. No more of this wondering and waiting. No more speculating about how bad the antibodies might hurt our son, or feeling low because my body is out to attack everything.
I am so grateful. We are having a boy! I was joking with Vincent earlier, saying, “Well, if he ever has a problem, I’ll just tell him, ‘Go talk to your father, I wanted a girl.’” Of course I’m joking! I’m too opinionated to not want to give him all the advice in the world. Especially since he is, after all, our little Damien, and out to conquer the universe.
I hope he’s geeky, smart, but with just enough strength that if someone makes him angry he can defend himself with first words, then a good amount of power. At least Vincent will have someone to work out with! And I’ll have someone to impart all my knowledge too (I’m joking again). I hope he’s a hard catch for women, that he’s work focused and interested in solving complex problems rather than solving the silly ones of some confused girl or entertaining the needs of some gold digger. I’ve seen too many good men go to waste on a bad woman. And my son, well he’s going to be great.
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