BSparl is now the size of a large mango, according to the What to Expect site. A large mango makes sense to me, because all of a sudden, my belly is way more sticky-outtie this week than ever before.
This past ultrasound was, by far, the longest one I’ve had yet. The technician spent a little over an hour taking a close look at the different parts of the baby, from the spine to ensure that it was fully enclosed to the mouth to check for cleft palette. (Thankfully, no issues on either front there.) He scanned her top to bottom, making sure she was developing on schedule.
“Everything looks good. It’s great, because when type 1 diabetic women would come in pregnant just a few decades ago, some of the complications to the mother and the baby were tough to manage and difficult for everyone. But now, these babies of women with diabetes are just as healthy as the ones born to mothers without. It’s a wonderful thing.”
I grinned. “I agree.”
“So do you want to know the sex of the baby?” The technician asked us.
Chris and I both responded, almost in unison: “Yes! We do!”
So the tech scanned up to my belly button (because BSparl has been hanging upside down in there like a bat, head down and feet towards my ribcage) and went to check for the baby’s … goods, I guess.
Only the legs were crossed.
“Hmm. This baby is a little on the shy side. They don’t want to show us anything yet.” And on the ultrasound screen, I could see my little kiddo, sitting in there with their legs crossed. Almost like she was waiting for hot chocolate to be brought to her and for a story to be read.
“Come on, baby. Let’s see what you are …” He scanned for a few more minutes. “Okay, guys. Ready?”
Chris’s hand held mine. “We’re ready.”
“It looks like you’re having a baby girl. A little girl.”
I didn’t have a preference for what this baby would be. As soon as we found out we were having a child, my mind immediately left the realm of pinks and blues and I just hoped and prayed for a healthy, happy baby. I didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl – I just wanted a healthy baby. No matter what.
But as soon as the lab technician said “Girl,” my heart swelled to the point where I couldn’t breathe. A baby girl. A daughter. My best friend. I thought about her little face and the tiny heart beating inside of me that belonged to her and there was this moment of complete and utter warmth and comfort, and I fell in love with her completely.
Of course, my mouth wouldn’t comply with the musical going on in my head. And all I could stammer out what, “Okay, that’s something.” But the tears just kept coming, and Chris’s hand closed tightly around mine as he kissed my forehead.
The lab technician smiled. “I’m sorry that it took so long to see everything. But with a girl, we have to make sure we’re right – takes a little longer than with a little boy.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’d rather she be on the shy side. She doesn’t really know you, you know?”
The technician scanned back up to the baby’s face, where she was hiding with her hands covering her face. Five little fingers. And then she moved and we saw her mouth, and she has these big, pouty lips already in there, pursed in a little bow. And I couldn’t stop staring, because this was my daughter. We’ve only known her for four and a half months and we haven’t even held her hands yet, but Chris and I are beyond smitten with her already. And terrified.
“You’re all set, Mrs. Sparling. Everything looks great. Congratulations.” The door closed behind him.
“Our daughter. We’re having a little girl.”
Chris and I sat in the dark for a minute, letting the idea of our daughter wrap around us like warm fleece. Realizing how much we loved her already. Realizing how truly lucky we were.
Realizing how much our lives had just changed.