I’m afraid yesterday’s post was a “just the facts, ma’am” sort of post. I needed time to sort through how I felt about what we found out at the sonogram. I was already in a mood to put my best face forward, since my first priority was to call all the parents and in-laws and then blog about it on the family blog. All that false cheeriness put up a wall between me and my real feelings, and it’s taken this long to even begin to delve into them.
This is what I’ve determined so far:
- Both M and my MIL, the biggest advocates of the “that can’t be a deedle” point of view, have the most vested interest in this baby being a girl. I think this bias might even be able to convince my MIL there is doubt about the baby being a boy, despite all her medical expertise.
- On the other hand, I am willing to believe there is enough doubt to not accept wholeheartedly that I’m carrying a boy. Seriously, look at that picture again, up close. There is enough detail to tell what looks like a vein running through that deedle. I’m not convinced the picture is accurate. Of course, I’m also unwilling to ignore the tech’s experience with this. I’m left confused.
- I surprised myself with my reaction. Apparently I had convinced myself well enough that it was a boy that when we saw the deedle on the screen, I wasn’t noticeably disappointed. It wasn’t what I was hoping to hear, but I was okay with it. I knew the longer I had to get used to the idea, the more I would love the idea of having two sons.
- I’m even more surprised that as more doubt creeps into my mind, I’m more satisfied with decorating in gender-neutral colors and waiting for the surprise at the birth. I know I’ll probably change my mind about waiting to know for sure in another couple of weeks, but at least for now I have learned patience.
- Right after the diagnosis, I was clinging to the little bit of doubt the tech had left us with, while M was pushing me to just accept that it was a boy. By the time we made it home, I pretty much had. And that’s when he began to cling to that possibility of doubt. I want to judge him for protecting himself, the exact same way I did at first. I want to be annoyed with him for messing with my own emotions by protecting his own. But finally I realize that the gender of his child is as important to him as it is to me, even if he has been hiding that fact quite well.
- I want to continue calling this baby a boy, using “he” and his name. I want to protect myself, take this opportunity to truly convince myself I want a boy, until we are able to find out for sure one way or another. Unfortunately, all this doubt has me feeling silly settling on calling it “him.” I think it’s more than habit that has me referring to it still as “it” and the generic Baby. I can’t keep calling the baby “he” on a regular basis until I know for sure.
I’m more confused now than I was before the sonogram yesterday. But that doesn’t seem to matter as much today. At least for the moment, I’m okay with not knowing. Did you know that there are really some pretty cute gender-neutral bedding sets out there? And even if they are hesitant, I am able to let myself dream, ever so briefly, of princess dresses and pigtails, dollies and Daddy’s little girl.