I have to admit that sex has been on my mind quite a bit lately. (You may assume that is because the ladies and I have our “Honey I Shrunk My Libido” show tomorrow night and I’ve been writing and prepping for it. A safe assumption, but not wholly correct.) Actually, I’ve been thinking about actual infant gender. No, I’m not making any big announcement here. (Whew! My husband breathes again.) But my son’s preschool teacher will be on maternity leave in just a few short weeks and the other day I went shopping for a baby gift. Sigh. Newborn sized anything is just so stinkin’ cute!
I am humbled to parent the perfect group of children: boy (nearing 10), girl (6.5), and boy (nearing 4). My first two babies, I decided to not find out their gender before their birth for a few reasons. Namely, there are just not many good surprises in this world. Lots of rather crappy surprises, but not so many of the good ones. And so we chose to not have the technician let us know in advance what color of paint to purchase. So, baby 1 and baby 2 slumbered in yellow rooms. Now, I actually had what I like to call a “gut feeling” for each of those baby’s genders before they were born, but I didn’t actually know. (I was correct by the way. All three times.)
And then baby 3 happened. We ended up having more ultrasounds than with the other pregnancies and I quickly decided I would just be too tempted to peak. After all, I shake the boxes under the Christmas tree and often read the last few pages of the book. So at 14 weeks, we had a “good guess” he was a he, and at 20 weeks, we had an even better guess that he was indeed a he.
Now, if you’ve never had the opportunity to have an ultrasound, let me tell you. You are missing out. Think about it – you have to bare a whole lotta skin, there’s high-tech gadgetry involved, and who knew so much KY Jelly would ever have such a place in your life?
Actually, my first ultrasound was years ago. (Back when 30 seemed like a far, far land in the distance. It still is, but now I’m looking in my rear-view mirror.) The procedure necessitated coating my entire trunk from sternum to “a-hem”, front to back; I was then sent on my merry way to have an upper GI. I’m pretty sure there are not too many things more pathetic than watching a rather petrified young woman walk down 5 crowded hallways, paper gown stuck haphazardly to parts of her, all while grasping her belongings and trying to read hallway signs. They didn’t even have the decency to give me those sexy socks with the non-slip grippers!
Compared to that, finding out that my third baby was a boy was a piece of cake.
So to all the moms out there anxiously waiting to find out if the ultrasound was correct and the nursery is painted in the perfect hue, enjoy the KY Jelly. All too soon you will be looking in your own rear-view mirror at those early days with your most wonderful little baby.