This pregnancy has been pretty easy. Even though I had some first trimester queasiness, I never got sick and all queasiness disappeared around week 13. I feel great. I'm still sleeping well. I'm gaining the right amount of weight. Pregnancy = piece of cake.
Or so I thought.
Tuesday was our big ultrasound day. I was SO excited. In fact, I had trouble sleeping Monday night because I couldn't believe it was finally time to get a peek at our little Bambeano. We showed up 30 minutes early for our appointment. And when the technician had me lay down and started the ultrasound, it was everything I had hoped it would be. We got to see Bambeano's face and little arms and little legs and tiny feet (complete with tiny toes). We could see and hear Bambeano's tiny heart beating. Music to my ears. I knew I was falling in love and, in my head, I was constructing my next blog post about the moment I had totally and utterly fallen in love with my baby.
And then this popped up on the ultrasound screen:
And the technician smiled and announced, "That's a boy part alright! You're having a boy."
I was fine at first. We went to lunch--I was fine. We called our families--I was fine. We went to Target to buy a photo album for the ultrasound pics and walked up and down the baby aisles. There was a LOT of pink--I was mostly fine.
And then, when we got home, I was making dinner and all of a sudden I started crying and couldn't stop. David, the ever-concerned and thoughtful husband, rushed over to see what was wrong, probably thinking I had cut or burned myself in the kitchen. Nope. I somehow sobbed out to him, "I don't WANT a boy!!!"
And it's true. For the last 20 weeks I've been convinced this baby was a girl. All my baby dreams have been about a baby girl. I didn't want a boy. Boys were something that other people had. I was supposed to have girls.
I'm not sure why I feel this way. I mean, I guess I should have known I had a 50% chance of having a baby boy.
But whenever I pictured myself as a mama, I pictured myself with a girl. I wanted to raise a girl. I wanted to teach her to be strong and self-assured. I felt like I kind of sort of knew what to do with a girl. I'm not sure I know what to do with boys. Plus, I don't know very many adult men who are super close with their mothers and the thought of someday being estranged from this baby makes me want to stay in bed with the covers pulled over my head.
So I cried. A lot. I woke up Tuesday night to go to the bathroom and when I remembered I was having a boy, I ended up crying myself to sleep. And Wednesday I cried. A lot. And then Thursday I was sad, but didn't cry. And today, almost 72 hours after the ultrasound, I'm not even so sad.
So what's helping?
*For one, being able to talk about my disappointment. I have a dear friend who has taught me (and modeled for me) the importance of Mama Honesty. Pregnancy may have been pretty good so far but Motherhood is bound to be a mixed bag. I am learning that I won't do myself any favors by pretending I don't feel how I feel or keeping it a secret because I'm ashamed. So far, I've been blessed with kind ears who have listened to and received my disappointment without any hint of judgment. I'm so thankful that God's love and grace has been extended to me through these thoughtful listeners (you know who you are!)
*I've also found it comforting to read articles online about "gender disappointment." I guess it's way more common than I thought and the articles have helped me see that I don't need to feel guilty for feeling how I feel. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful for this baby or not grateful that this baby is healthy. It doesn't make me a bad mom.
*Hearing from parents who love having boys has helped. Friends have told me that having a boy is way better than they even knew it could be. Plus, my friend Duncan brought his new son to school yesterday and let me hold him. He was pretty darn sweet.
*Looking at this has helped:
It's Bambeano's first item from REI. And picturing his tiny little head in this hat makes me feel better. Plus, I think it's cool that the first baby item we bought him came from REI, his dad's favorite store.
*Which leads me to another major reason I'm feeling better.
His dad. The man who also couldn't sleep the night before our ultrasound and who brought me two cake donuts (my favorite) when he picked me up for our appointment. The man who squeezed my hand as we watched our son kick his legs and flail his arms during the ultrasound. The man who insisted we buy a photo album to protect the ultrasound pictures and the man who missed watching LOST on Tuesday night because we were meeting with a doula (birth attendant). He's also the man who patiently rubbed my back every time I cried because we are having a boy. Not once did he tell me to "get over it" or act angry that I was so upset. And when I was crying myself back to sleep after my trip to the bathroom? He rolled over, put his arm around me, and held me tightly until I fell asleep. I receive so much love from this baby's dad who, I now realize, used to be a baby boy. And if our baby boy turns out anything like his dad, well, nothing could be better than that.
*Finally, (I know this is an epic post) looking at the ultrasound pictures and remembering what it felt like to see him kick and move and thinking he was absolutely perfect has helped. He's not just a baby boy, he's my son. My son. And he's awesome. Have you seen his foot? I think it's the cutest thing I've ever seen...
My son's foot
