When I found out I was pregnant with Noah, I already knew I wanted him to be a boy. In fact, I had long held some sort of preconceived idea that I was destined to be a mom of boys. Three boys, to be exact. (I don’t know why I had such specific child-rearing notions, but there you go.) Then 20 weeks in, on my 26th birthday, Noah and all his parts appeared on the blurry black and white screen and I cried from happiness, announcing his name immediately to the ultrasonographer, who typed it right there on the picture.
XY, baby
Not quite three years later, I lay belly up and heart pounding on another sonogram table, slathered in jelly. My sister was there, filming the big reveal, and Luke and Noah were hanging on my side, eager to catch a glimpse of the shot that would tell us who the fourth at our family table would be. (Or, more accurately, eager to hear the assessment from a professional who can actually read those crazy white blobs and translate them into girl or boy pronouncements.)
And of course, you know the outcome of that story: Not a second boy, but a Rosie Mae was on the way. And my notions of being a mom-to-boys changed to visions of being a mom to a boy and a girl. I would have a daughter. Adaughter? How did Imother a daughter? But just like figuring out motherhood in the first place, there was nothing to do but jump in with both feet and hope for the best.
Nice to meet you. You must be my mom.
And this time around, at my 12 week ultrasound, with no fanfare, no crowd at the ready, no cameras rolling, and no mental preparation (Iforgot, until Iwas in the waiting room at the appointment that it was possible to find out the gender at first trimester screenings. YESIKNOWI AMANEDITOR FORAPREGNANCYMAGAZINE AND HAVEALSOBEENPREGNANTTWOOTHERTIMES.) the technician looked my way smiling, and asked, “Would you like to know what you're having?” To which I said, “Uh?” And she wrote:LOOKSLIKEAGIRL!!! across the top of the screen in white pixelated letters. Ipromptly cried, of course.
Luckily for her sister, Rosie has impeccable taste.
Now the male/female scales in our house will tip from even Steven to more girls than boys. Rosie gets a sister.Noah gets another. This is who we'll be, the five of us. A boy and a girl, with a boy and two girls. It's funny sometimes how life turns out just the way you didn't know you wanted it to.
