Boy Mom

“Do you want to know the gender?” the sonographer’s eyes were cast down at her keyboard, nails rhythmically clicking as she entered information into a required field on the ultrasound. My heart raced as I, along with my husband, two sons, and my mother-in-law all eagerly nodded, leaned in and squinted at the monitor to try to make out what was what before the words were uttered. There was a long pause.

“Luke, what do you think the baby is?” my mother-in-law, Julie, broke the silence to ask our oldest. The sweet four-year-old remained coy and aloof, uncomfortable with all eyes on him. He shrugged his shoulders and muttered barely above a whisper, “I think it’s a boy.” I lay in silence, surprised. He’d told me the entire pregnancy he thought it was a girl and even had the confidence to write his “sister’s” name on his recent art project.

“And Sam, what do you think?” The question didn’t even have time to bounce off the walls.

“IT’S A GIRL!” the tow-headed two year old yelled, certain and declarative. There was no waiver in his voice. As far as he was concerned, he had done the sonographer’s job for her. All was said and done. Let’s go get some ice cream to celebrate.

“So what is it?” I asked, waiting for the official declaration. Anticipation over the last twenty weeks was enjoyable. These few seconds of silence as we waited for the lab tech’s announcement, however, were unbearable.

“It’s a…… it’s a….“ the sonographer paused for effect. Alright, enough with the dramatic pause. What is it? What is it?! I couldn’t take it any longer. “……. a BOY!” she chimed confidently.

My eyes were locked on the screen trying to make out how she could tell. Some of the images we had seen left no room for doubt as to what it was. Wow. Looks at those fingers! Oh, Baby’s sucking its thumb. Gosh, look at its heart beating! This particular view left me puzzled. A mass of flub here and there sputtered on and off the screen for but a brief moment.

The tiny stall-like room became instantly abuzz with energy.

“Wow, how exciting, Luke! You were right!”  Julie gave a congratulatory hug to the four-year-old. A bashful smile slowly crept up on his face. “What do you think, Sam?”

“She’s WRONG. It’s a GIRL!!!” my two year old yelled with grizzle in his voice. This was not the sound of a tender heart being broken by hard news. This was raw, seething anger. The toddler’s legs went limp and I found myself in an awkward position lying on a doctor’s chair, abdomen laden in KY jelly, trying rather unsuccessfully to console the hysterical boy throwing a full-on tantrum on the floor. My husband quickly whisked him out of the room and it calmed once again though my heart raced as I tried to process the verdict.

Three boys. Three. Boys. I was going to be a mom to THREE BOYS. Yikes. How confident was the lab tech she was right, again?

All of a sudden I had flashbacks to all my premonitions over the last few months. I was sick as a dog my first trimester (my other pregnancies were smooth sailing). My MOPS group’s little gender prediction game (as unscientific as it may be- you put your hand in a box without looking and grab what will either be a blue or a pink duck) said that this baby would be a girl. Typically unemotional, I found myself crying at the drop of a hat. And for the first time ever, I had two strangers come up to me in public, put their hands on my belly and tell me, “It’s a girl.” At the time I thought it might have been somewhat prophetic. Now, knowing the outcome, I had the creeps wondering why anyone would have the gall to touch me and toy with my emotions.

I left the imaging center numb. I had had so many friends and family confide with the best of intentions that they hoped this baby would be a girl. Secretly, I took all these wishes and kept them tucked away in my heart, letting them unfold into dreams of sugar & spice filling our home. I felt like announcing this baby’s gender was going to result in a lack-luster response and I immediately conceded it was a blessing to for-go having a gender reveal party like I once considered.

Guilt overcame me. How could I be so concerned about what other people would think? And how could I be so bummed when I had received the best news of all- that this baby was healthy and everything checked out okay? I felt disappointed… and then horribly guilty for being disappointed.

We all hopped in the car and took a short drive to Culver’s. Ice cream was in order. I was uncharacteristically quiet throughout our celebratory moment. I looked at my husband. He and his mom enjoyed a lively banter. I looked over at my firstborn and second-born. They dove into their dessert, melted cream dripping down their chins as they excitedly shoved more frozen goodness in their mouths. Sam was over his big disappointment (all it took was a kid-size vanilla cone to cure him). I stared in wonder at him. Then his big brother.

Life with two boys had thus far been exhausting.

And exhilarating.

And hard.

And amazing.

And I never once looked at my sweet boys and wished they were girls. I looked down at my burgeoning belly and realized nothing about this precious life that was going to enter our lives in a few short months had changed. He was always a boy. The only thing that changed was I now knew he was one. My head hit the pillow hard that evening, the heavy emotions of the day lulling me into a deep sleep. And when I woke up it was as if I always knew.

Now, when people ask what we’re having I most likely laugh and tell them, we’re refining our craft and sticking with what we know. Baby Boy now has a name, a family that can’t wait to meet him soon, and a Mama who can’t wait for kisses, cuddles, romps in the mud, and surely a few celebratory moments that will require a jaunt to an ice cream parlor where this little guy will most likely dive into a cone with drips of melted cream on his face, only to have this girl melting over how great it is to be a Boy Mom.