The sex of the baby wasn't as important to me as the health of the baby, duh. But my family just HAD to know. My mother thought Joel and I already knew, and at one point threatened to cut me out of her will if I didn't tell her. My mom is very intuitive, since day 1 of my pregnancy, or should I say, day 242, my Mom kept saying I was having a girl. Damn that woman for always being right. ALWAYS. I arrived at the hospital for my appointment, checked in at the front desk and they directed me to my appointment. The MFM office was on the same floor as Labor and Delivery. Cool, I can see where the action is going to happen. I made my way to the elevator bank and waited there for what seemed like forever. Oh great, when I'm actually in labor I'm going to have this baby right here on the floor waiting for ONE of the EIGHT elevators to arrive. This isn't going well.
I walk into the office, check in at the desk. The nurse asks me if I'm in the right place. "Yes I am, I'm Jennifer, here for my 8:45 appointment."
"But it says you're 37 weeks pregnant?" she responds.
"I am." I reply. At this point I can feel all of the heavily pregnant women in the waiting room burning a hole through my back with their death stares. At 37 weeks, I looked about 20 weeks pregnant and felt FINE. They hated me. One of the women couldn't even get up when her name was called without the help of her husband, who by the way let out an audible grunt as he hoisted his wife off of her chair. I basically hold court in the waiting room telling all of the waiting mothers, their spouses and half the staff my story while waiting for my turn. Its confirmed, they hate me.
The sonogram tech was a sweetheart. At this point I was still asking a million questions and she answered every single one. This sonogram appointment took over an hour. She examined every organ my baby had in detail and took about 50 screen shots for my chart. She tells me my baby is perfect. Five-ish pounds of PERFECT. After everything my body had been through, my baby somehow managed to develop into a perfect human. Then she asks if I want to know the sex of the baby. OF COURSE I DO. I knew so little about this pregnancy there was no way in hell I didn't want to know. She points to the screen. "Do you see that?" I had no idea what she was referring to so I say no. "Exactly, we are looking at the lack there of. You are having a healthy baby girl."
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| The sonogram that shows her lady parts |
I was relieved. I'd wanted a girl because research shows that girls are stronger in the womb, and after what I'd put this baby through, she needed to be strong. Also, I wasn't too keen on the idea of all those extra parts I'd have to rearrange during a diaper change. We'd already decided on names. "Jordan Faris" if it was a girl and "Jamison David" if it was a boy. Faris is a family name on my side of the family, and David is a family name on Joel's side, as well as Joel's middle name. We weren't allowed to spell it "Jameson" because that's a whiskey and our baby had already had it's fair share of alcohol. I liked the name Jordan for a boy OR girl, but that was immediately shot down by Joel and my family. Apparently they felt that Jordan is the name of the boy that gets beat up on the playground. Apologies to anyone who is a male Jordan or knows one.
I leave the appointment and turn my phone back on. Obviously, I have to tell Joel first. This killed my mother and sister. They'd been texting me during the entire appointment inquiring if I knew the sex yet. I text them back saying I knew the sex, but I was telling Joel first. Oh man, they did NOT like that. I called Joel and he didn't answer! Rude, he knew I had an appointment. I could be in labor right now and he doesn't answer his phone! This better not be a sign of what happens when its really time. He works for the Union doing manual labor and can't always answer his phone, but my pregnant self does not care about that. So I wait. He finally calls back. I tell him we are having a healthy baby girl! My big, rough and tough baby daddy didn't say anything at first. Then when he finally does speak, I hear it in his voice, he is crying. My now-husband has a history of autism in his family and the odds are higher in boys so hearing we are having a girl was a relief to him.
Now we wait. Baby girl could come whenever she wants. I have OB appointments once a week from here on out. At my next appointment I've given a worksheet with a bunch of questions on it to take home and fill out with Joel.
Who do I want in the delivery room? A doctor would be nice. And I guess Joel too.
Would we be vaccinating our baby? Yes please.
After she is born do we want her to receive antibiotic eye treatment? Is this a thing?
Vitamin K? Not the rave drug right?
Formula or breastfeeding? Breastfeeding if I can. Because formula isn't cheap ya'll.
Delayed cord cutting? What even is this?
Would I like to preserve my placenta? Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm not eating that.
Natural labor or epidural? How many times to I have to tell you people? Drugs. I want all the drugs.
Back to the internet I go. That lasted about two seconds before I called my Mom. Like I said, that woman is always right. She guided me through the questions and that was that.
From here on out every text, Facebook message, Snapchat or phone call I made was responded to with "is it time?" No Mom/Dad/Sister/Baby Daddy, I'm calling you in a panic about my latest irrational fear or dream I had that my epidural worked backwards and numbed the upper half of my body, my baby came out missing an ear, or I had her in the bathroom at Target. My biggest non-irrational fear was that Joel would miss the whole damn thing. He worked over an hour away. During rush hour, that hour could turn into three. I told him I wouldn't give her his last name if he missed the birth. Cause I'm mature like that.
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| The first time we both felt our baby girl move |
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