Now that our house had grown by one for sure, it was time to see how many more might be joining us in the next nine months. Bashert had to brace herself for another vaginal sonogram. This time though we were going to our doctor on our terms.
From the get-go Dr. OBwan was in our corner all the way. There was never a question that I was part of this whole thing. I was the other parent, period. You cannot imagine the feeling of breathing that free air. It was simply incredible.
The day of the sonogram, I was nervous. Bashert had been through such horrible circumstances during her previous exam and I was afraid for her. And I was admittedly nervous to see if we were going to see more than one baby in there.
OBwan couldn’t have been more gentle and understanding. Now the procedure was still uncomfortable for Bashert, but there was no pain, no clinching, no terrified gasps. I was vibrating with happiness. I think at one point, Bashert had to ask me to settle down. I have to tell you it is a lot easier to be excited when you are not the one in the stirrups with your feet in the air and bum exposed to the world.
The sonogram revealed that we were having just one. Although I questioned a dark spot next to the little fluttering thing on the screen, OBwan assured me that it was not another baby. I was a little bit disappointed, but still overjoyed to see the tiny dancing blob on the screen. Back in the dark ages when I was pregnant with Nenè, these exams were not routine, so I did not get to see her image until she was about four months along. This was really cool.
It was a stinking relief to leave a doctor’s office with joy instead of heartache. Bashert couldn’t help but share it with our world, damn all the superstitions. She figured if anything were to happen she wanted as much support as possible and how was she to have that if no one knew what was going on. Hard logic to fight.
One sticking point between us was finding out the sex of the baby. I generally do not like surprises, they cause too much expectation on both the surpriser and the surprisee, but in this situation, I had a case of the old-fashions. I didn’t want to know the sex of the baby until he or she came into the world. Bashert on the other hand wanted to know right away. But we are talking about the woman, whose mother had to do triple security on all gifts so that Bashert, the child would not pre-open them. She cannot stand the lure of a wrapped package. “Do not open until Chanukah” she does not understand.
She finally convinced me to go along with the idea when she told me about her dream/visit with her Mom. Her mom passed away when Bashert was 15, but has remained a guiding voice throughout Bashert’s life. So when she told me that her mom had spoken to her about our “son” and mentioned several specific things about him, she got me to relinquish. We would find out.
The opportunity for the big reveal arrived at 12 weeks. Bashert was all excited to sit in the waiting room with all the other pregnant women. I don’t think the excitement of her condition had once left her (except maybe when all she could eat was crackers and drink ginger ale – yeah, that wasn’t fun). She was happy that she was finally showing and could take her place among the visibly pregnant.
Like with everything else, we had done some homework about what we would see on this sonogram. We used to spend hours in the local Borders Bookstore pouring over the baby books to see what was going with the developmental stages of this week or that month. These were some of the things I missed out on when I had Nenè, so I was enjoying this second chance. Anyway, we knew that developmentally, the baby was pretty much all there – it would be much more than just a dancing blob this go around.
We had also asked around about our sonographer. We wanted to make sure that we were going to get a good reading and that like OBwan, she would be accepting of our family. After being burned so many times at the infertility clinic, we tended to get a bit paranoid about each new person involved. We did not have to worry about this sonographer a bit. She worked from inside the offices where OBwan practiced and her reputation as one of the best in town had been confirmed by multiple sources. OBwan herself, vouched for her professionalism. Yay for us.
I keep repeating this, but it really was a relief to be in OBwan’s care. So much so, that it allowed us to be silly again. Those of you who are devotees of Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein” will appreciate what happened next.
The entire suite that houses OBwan’s offices is quite large (there are over 10 doctors in all). It occupies about one third of an entire hospital floor and the hallways in the back leading to the exam rooms are quite the labyrinth. You have to be led to your respective room or get lost without a map. So when Bashert’s name was called we knew we were in for a little trek, but what we weren’t prepared for was the appearance of the sonographer.
She was as solid as she was tall and completely expressionless. She checked her clipboard for some unknown data and then turned with that fateful phrase – wait for it – “Walk this way.” I swear, I could not help myself. Igor appeared within me. As I hunched and dragged myself down the hall behind the unaware woman, I thought Bashert was going to punch me in the arm, but she couldn’t even if she tried because she was giggling too hard. Wow, did it feel good to laugh again.
The sonogram was awesome. The little bugger in there was magnificent. Sonograms are difficult to distinguish for me, but with the aid of the expert I was able to discern all those lovely parts that were supposed to be there. It was so funny to see the outline of the baby’s facial profile. All I could see was the distinct Bashert family resemblance in the nose area. It made me smile.
After the sonographer had taken all the measurements and said all looked okay, she asked the question of questions, “Is there anything else you want to know?” Bashert looked at me and I at her and we both took a breath and said yes. I asked to know the sex of the baby. No going back now.
I watched the monitor with my breath held. I had my own worries about having a boy – the difficulties he may have with having two moms, the unknown of raising a boy instead of a girl, and a myriad of others I cannot even recall now. Bashert was in a private place waiting to hear if her mother’s words would show true.
When the sonogram wand hit the right spot, there was no doubt. “It” was a boy. We were going to have a son! I whispered to Bashert to look at the screen. Tears began to leak out and in a quiet voice she asked if what she saw was really what she saw. When the sonographer confirmed that it was indeed a “boy part” (her phrase), the tears really began to flow. I told Bashert, “Yes, it’s a boy. Your Mom was right!”
Well, between me talking about Bashert’s mom and all the tears, the sonographer finally showed some emotion: nervousness. She got the completely wrong idea about what was going on. She thought we were upset that the baby was a boy! We laughingly told her of Bashert’s dream and mother’s predictions and her apprehensions about us disappeared. She handed us our first photos of our son and we were on our smiling way.
OBwan met with us briefly after that – another wonderful experience and I can finally say that without a hint of sarcasm. She congratulated us (imagine that!) and laid out the plan for the rest of Bashert’s prenatal care. Our frightening and fabulous journey was back on track.
At least for the time being.