Early on in my pregnancy, I had great anticipation for the day of my ultrasound. My excitement grew as the weeks turned to days and finally the great day marked in red marker on our family calendar had arrived. I could not wait to see that first picture, the tiny black and white shiny image that detailed every bone in my growing baby’s body. It was also, of course, the day that with any luck, we would find out if we were having a little boy or girl. My stomach fluttered with butterflies as I debated my outfit for the day, the pink pinstriped button up shirt with my favorite pregnancy jeans or the soft blue sweater. I tried to close my eyes and see which outfit I gravitated towards as if it was any indication of the sex of the baby that I was carrying.
My excitement and nervousness increased as my name was called in the waiting room. I was escorted back and soon was comfortably positioned on the table, belly covered in cold gel. The instrument used to see the baby pressed and moved over his tiny form as he kicked and shifted to move away from it. My husband held my hand as we stared at the computer monitor, amazed at the images that appeared on the screen.
It is like a weight lifted off your shoulders when you are told that your baby looks healthy and perfect. After most of the measurements are taken, you are given the opportunity to find out the sex of your baby. But not all babies cooperate with this and I have spoken to at least a few tearful mothers that are forced to wait until birth to find out how they will decorate their baby’s room.
We were able to find out every time. Each time we were delivered the wonderful news that we were having a boy. We were ecstatic each time about having a boy but looking back, I wonder how parents feel if they are expecting one sex and told they were having another.