As I was doing my lesson plan for school next week, I happened upon my plan for the same week last year. Last year’s plan for Tues, 12/18/12, included: “Leave early for ultrasound at 3:00!!” with a big smiley face. Seeing this pop up just crushed me. The memories flooded back: how excited I was about that appointment, how I had counted down the days, and how I felt finally seeing that on the next week’s schedule. It was the day we were supposed to find out Luke’s sex.
Josh got off work early and came with me. We were so eager to learn what our baby was. As it happened, Luke wouldn’t show his goods, so we didn’t get to find out that day. The cord was in the way, between his legs, and he wouldn’t shift to a better direction. The tech tried for a 45 minutes or so and I was reluctant to let her give up. I had my heart set on finally knowing what he was. She said, “I have a guess, but I don’t want to say for certain yet. I thought I saw something…” I remember being so crushed. I had planned to wrap a boy or girl onesie for each of my family members to open on Christmas. I didn’t get to do that and I was so bummed about it. I had to tell everyone who asked the next day that we didn’t get to find out after all. In retrospect, I should have just been happy that he looked healthy, right on track, and that I got to see him.
We did get to find out he was a boy 3 weeks later at a 21-week ultrasound. I had been feeling like he was a boy and so did Josh, but we of course weren’t certain.
Instead of having my family members open the gender-revealing gifts on Christmas, I bought boy and girl onesies for each of them. I wrapped the boy oneses in red and the girl onesies in white. I sent them each home with a set of each color gift (at that point, they all lived 85 miles away so I didn’t see them as often as I do now that my parents have moved to our town). When we got the sex, I called them and said, “Okay, open the red one!” and that’s how we revealed our baby’s sex. It was so fun. My dad’s onesie said “Grandpa’s Little Buckaroo” with a cowboy motif, my mom’s said “Grandma’s Little Monster” and included little pants, and my sister’s was a boyish black with a guitar embroidered that read “My Auntie Thinks I’m a Rock Star”.
Such a happy time and fun memory, but how it hurts to think about right now. I so wish my baby got to wear those outfits.