Are You Finding Out?

31 Jul

The moment you become visibly pregnant it’s the first question everyone asks. “Do you know what you’re having?” “Have you found out?” “Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy?” It’s every single person’s default question. Even strangers. It makes me wonder what people used to ask before it was possible to find out the sex. “What do you think you’re having?” Maybe?

The answer is we don’t know what we’re having because we have decided to wait until D-Day to find out.  It is very tempting and there were moments during the 20 week scan when I was bursting to know, but I always said I never would and in retrospect I’m really pleased I didn’t find out. So is hubby.

For me, finding out the sex is a bit like knowing what your Christmas presents are before you open them. No matter what anyone says it’s just not the same as the excitement you feel on the day. I have a feeling this might go back to my childhood and the guilt I felt when seeing my mum’s face on Christmas morning after it became clear I had already seen most of what I was opening. This wasn’t as bad as my sister though, who was once asked by my mum what she would like for Christmas and proceeded to reel off everything my mum had already bought her. This included her new stereo which was blue (and yes, she named the colour) and a game of Guess Who which was actually mine (I got this game every year I loved it so much. She should have known).

However, it doesn’t mean we didn’t sit there during the whole of the scan driving the sonographer crazy. We stated early on we didn’t want to know, but then spent the next twenty minutes openly discussing whether or not we should. I’m pretty sure she spent most of the twenty minutes rolling her eyes.  As she got further down the body towards the legs she told us to look away if we didn’t want to see what might or might not be there. I looked away, covering my eyes in a rather dramatic fashion, but then I looked back (through my fingers) as my head suddenly turned into a magnet, drawing me closer and closer to the screen. At this point the sonographer’s eye rolling had reached new levels as she said “I thought you didn’t want to know?.”

I’d always thought that the way they tell is whether or not they can see a penis. Apparently this is not the case. They know if it’s a boy because of the penis and testicles and a girl by her ovaries. Who knew? I guess it accounts for those boy babies who are not blessed ‘down there’.

So, as she gets to the leg area I spot two things. Or at least I think I do. Unable to help myself I blurt out, “are they ovaries?” “They could be testicles” replies eye-roller. She’s giving nothing away. They were probably kidneys.

Going into the scan I thought I was having a girl. During the scan I went from being convinced baby was a boy, back to girl, back to a boy and then having no idea. Hubby too is none the wiser. We did the famous wedding ring test when we got back from the hospital. It didn’t work. We couldn’t work out which direction it was swinging in, the cotton ended up in knots and no website could give us a definitive answer on which sex went with which ring direction. Useless.

Since it became clear hubby and I are not going to find out, most conversation between us, our family, and our friends revolves around the sex of our unborn child. The suspense is killing me. More so because I keep calling the baby ‘it’ and I’m pretty sure if ‘it’ can hear me it’s doing nothing for ‘its’ confidence.

Guessing the sex is becoming my new favourite game. At a barbeque last weekend our friends started running a book on what day baby would arrive and its sex. Interestingly it came out as a girl – by one vote. However, one of our friends is a doctor and he predicted a boy. I’m now convinced it’s a boy because surely he must know by looking at me. He’s a doctor. He must have inside knowledge.

Whichever sex I will be happy as long as it’s healthy. Deep down I think I know what it is, but I’m going to keep that a secret. Until the day arrives when we meet our son or daughter, we shall paint the nursery a neutral colour and spend hours arguing over names. We’ll also continue to play the guessing game and try not to burst with more excitement than we’ve ever felt in our lives.

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