...So there I lay, waiting to hear what the sonographer was going to say. I realised I was shaking ever so slightly. For days I had obsessed over whether I was at long last going to get my little girl, or whether I was going to forever be the mother of THREE(!) strapping lads. I had suffered bouts of severe insomnia, waking up in the middle of the night and playing out the various reactions I might have to the news either way. And here I was, on the cusp of finally finding out. You could cut the silence in the room it was that thick and heavy.
Then the husband interrupted with, "So have you seen anything which might give you a clue?"
She turned to us and smiled. "As a matter of fact I have!" she chirped brightly.
And with that, I knew. It could only be one thing: a tiny penis waving about between the little ones legs.
And sure enough, seconds later, there it was, visible to all: my little baby boy.
I was rendered speechless. In those seconds which followed, I found my head full of a million thoughts and feelings. Content in the knowledge that it was by all accounts a healthy, perfectly formed baby, I watched as the internal movie in my head played out:
(Two little babies - one a girl and one a boy...the girl baby smiled and suddenly POP went the cartoon bubble surrounding her and she disappeared in a plume of smoke. I was left with a chubby little male cherub smiling broadly at me, who got bigger and bigger and took over my whole headspace. But then he started to grow, and I saw Egg and Dumps enter from corner stage and they were all teenagers and they were all HUGE and they were tearing food out of cupboards and stuffing their faces and dumping loads of laundry on the kitchen floor and being so LOUD and trekking in mud everywhere and....and...)
"You okay?" the husband asked kindly, rubbing my arm and shaking me out of my reverie.
At once I was back in the hospital, staring soberly at the screen. But I ignored him for the moment and addressed the sonographer one last time.
"Are you sure it's a boy? I mean are you 80% or 90% sure?" I asked.
She grinned her happy, healthy Kiwi grin, swinging her luscious blond locks over her shoulder and winked knowingly, "I am 99% sure...look!"
And there is was. That little penis, up there on the screen. My future...in black and white, practically waving at me.
Spun out doesn't even cover it. I had secretly 99% believed it was going to be a girl. I 'knew it' deep inside and even had her full name picked out.
Going to be a crazy few weeks mentally and emotionally as I get my head around not just the fact that I was so, so wrong, but that I am soon to be the mother of three(!) boys.
I'm not even one of those hearty, sporty women with ruddy cheeks who I imagine whip up weekend hog roasts for their big sons and all their mates. I'm already drowning in a sea of dirty laundry, spills and stains, and I can guarantee that every single toilet in this house, is right now, as we speak, decorated in a sea of urine.
The husband is of course taking the news much more in stride. Already over the shock, he is now amusing himself by thinking up potential boy names, and looking at me quizzically out of the corner of his eye, wondering if I'm going to hold up or lose the plot.
I suppose my biggest worry right now is making sure the poor little guy doesn't get named something ridiculous like 'Barabbas' or 'Hallellujah' - the strong contender at the moment.
And giving away the cute little girl outfit I purchased ages ago, which was simply too darling to resist (sigh)...