My reaction to this was mixed, let me tell you. Being ever-so-cocky and confident I was growing a boy, all eyes were on Brad as he and I opened the envelope from the OB’s office. I wanted to witness his reaction to me being right all along and him having a son, first boy in the current generation. It all happened in a split-second - his statement “Girl!”, my eyes flying to the picture, “What?!?!”, covering my face in my hands and bursting into tears. He took great pleasure in calling me ‘wrong’ the rest of the day.
One might think that having another girl is the fulfillment of a dream, which it is. One might think we were secretly hoping it would be a girl, which he was. I, on the other hand...I was prepping for a boy for a number of reasons. (And apparently doing a good job because I found I needed a few days to let go of the newer vision of mothering a boy vs a girl, the visions of Brad doing Father-Son stuff, some boy outfits I thought that not only could I live with but that would be cute, etc.) In the days after learning we have another girl, I found a big part of having a boy was wrapped up in my hope for success. Different gender, better chance of a different outcome. Strong, strapping boy, you know the drill. Thankfully, my counselor supported me on this notion (thus making me feel less guilty that I was not over the moon about a girl.) She understood and validated my newfound sense of doom - we’ve had a total of 4 opportunities for a girl - Anna, Emily, and the two adoptions from the same teenage couple we turned down over the last 3 years. (Some of you may not know about either of those. But we had them, and turning them down was NOT easy, despite believing to the best of our ability that it was the best choice at the time.) Whether we actively chose or not, none of those opportunities worked out. The way my twisted self operates, I made an unspoken (and previously unconscious) rule, “God Will Not Let Us Have A Girl”. Hence, my relative freak-out to the news we are again with Girl.
But. I’ve done some work with my counselors around it, made some headway in the God-does-not-equal-Trust issue, and am now feeling better about life in general than I have since Anna died. Which feels tenuous, but nonetheless hopeful. I’ve full-on admitted that if something should happen to this child, I might be permanently done for. But barring that, maybe I can salvage some true appreciation and genuine desire to Be A Part Of This Life again. It’s been awhile. I’ve held onto this new space for over a week, which isn’t too bad. Stay tuned!
Meanwhile, join me in celebrating our newest addition. May she arrive full-term, healthy, and into a room full of joy!
For the record, I’m still uptight about her measuring in the 60th-70th percentiles on all measurements save the abdomen, which is coming in at whopping 83rd. And I’m still having a hard time trusting medical personnel that say “no reason to worry” because that’s what we were told as I was being wheeled off to the OR with Anna and Brad was being thrown his scrubs. I don’t even think they were sugar-coating - they told him to get his camera and everything, “we’re going to get your daughter!” It went down in the record books as an ‘unexpected c-section, not emergent’. So what do medical personnel really know?!?!
But I had a gestational diabetes test at my 22-week appointment and it came back great, exactly the same number as with Anna, actually. So at least we know that’s not the cause of The Great Girlie Guts. : )