Week 17: To gender reveal or not to gender reveal?

Some of the most exciting appointments in a pregnancy (at least for me!) are the appointments when you have an ultrasound. Knowing the telltale swoosh swoosh of the ultrasound wand (is that what it’s called?) means you are about to see your little peanut makes it totally worth the full bladder with which you are required to arrive.
At 17 weeks (a kind of random point if you ask me; I highly prefer even numbers), I headed into the doctor’s office for my second ultrasound. The first ultrasound is exciting, don’t get me wrong, but the tiny baby is so tiny you can hardly see anything. At this point, the babe is big enough to see some features. We saw details: mouth opening and closing, little clenched fists, and feet crossed. If we wanted, we could have found out if the little pumpkin is a boy or girl.
But we didn’t.
We closed our eyes. Or, I held my hands in front of my eyes, and I told my husband to close his. I have to admit, even though I totally want to be surprised, I was tempted to peek. You know, like when you’re watching a scary movie and cover your eyes, but you peek just a little bit through your fingers? Like that. Except it wasn’t a scary movie. And if I peeked and was actually able to see anything, I would have ruined my plan to be surprised.
So I didn’t peek. I covered my eyes and waited until I was told it was safe to look again. I got to see all the other adorable features of my little guy or gal. We know he or she has ten tiny toes, a lovely spine, and a brain we’re sure is very smart. We just don’t know if he or she is a he or she.
Gender revealing parties seem like they would be a lot of fun. I have not been to one, but I’ve seen lots of videos and photos on Facebook. There is excitement and everyone is anxiously waiting to see if you are having a boy or girl, through a certain color of frosting, balloons, cake, etc. Then, I’m sure, you probably score a few adorable outfits from your close family and friends because they finally know whether they’re shopping for pink or blue. And I may have been up for finding out with this baby. Maybe … if we hadn’t had as wonderful an experience as we did with our daughter.
We didn’t find out Olivia’s gender either. I always knew I wanted to wait because, truly, how many genuine surprises do you get in your life? My husband was convinced she was a girl from the moment we found out I was pregnant. I thought she was a boy. I am a very girly girl. I needed a girl—to dress up, to put in dance classes, to teach how to put on makeup. That is precisely why I thought there was no way I would actually GET a girl. We spent my whole pregnancy telling each another that the other was wrong. I told him our son didn’t like being called a girl. He told me our daughter was offended I kept calling her a boy.
In the delivery room, after an hour and a half of pushing, our baby came into the world. “Well, Dad,” said our doctor, “What is it?” My husband looked, grinned at me, and exclaimed, “It’s a girl!” I was shocked. “It’s a girl?!” I blubbered, and the tears started flowing. I couldn’t believe it. I had actually gotten my girl! All of the waiting, the green and yellow clothing, the two lists of potential names, the people who kept telling me they didn’t know how I could NOT find out, all of it was worth it for that moment. The moment when my husband first looked at our daughter, then looked at me with the most incredible love and amazement in his eyes, and told me we had a girl.
It’s that moment that is worth the wait for me. This time, he thinks the baby is a boy and I think it’s a girl. We’ll see who is right. But we won’t know until April 6-ish. And I am totally fine with that. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.