Today, we learned there is a boy in my womb. I have very mixed emotions about the whole thing. For starters, I had again convinced myself something was wrong with the baby before the ultrasound because not only could I not feel my baby's movements, but I am also a paranoid, anxiety-prone freaky person.
So I was already a wreck of emotions when Sarah stuck the wand on my belly and revealed my rolling, kicking, lively baby. I laid there crying and watching the baby and thinking, "This is a girl baby. I don't see a penis at all. I think it's a girl." So then Sarah told us we had a boy, that the baby had "boy parts" and that thing I was thinking was the umbilical cord? Yeah, probably a penis.
There was an immense wave of...something...when she told us we had a baby boy. I don't even know how to explain it. A very odd, distance followed by a very rapid closeness followed by an entire day of wonderment. I have a son. I produced a boy. It doesn't quite feel right to say so. I mean, what if it's a girl instead and I've preconceived this life and her birth is surrounded by these corrected, confused feelings?
Maybe it's better to continue thinking of my child as just my child. Which I wanted to do anyway until Corey convinced me to find out the sex. He was feeling uninvolved in the pregnancy, you see, and strongly felt he could better bond with the baby and conceptualize himself as a father if he could think about "son" or "daughter." So now we know. A son. We have a son, or half of a son.
A son, by the way, whose legs measure longer than his gestational age, which tells us he is already a long, lanky monkey like his daddy. Destined, I think, to be a second row or a very speedy fullback. Or perhaps a distance runner?