Our minds are still reeling from the 7 weeks we've known we'd be having a baby, even though we're at week 22. You'd be in a jumble too. Most expectant couples spend those first 2 months sharing an intimate secret, picking names, dreaming about what the misses would look like with a baby belly, thinking about how they'd tell their parents that soon they'd be grandparents, and all those plans that people make. Instead of 2 months, we had 2 days of those secret plans before my belly popped and the "world" knew we were pregnant. Not that I'm making excuses, I'm just saying there's been a lot to digest in a short period of time with an even shorter period of time to get ready for baby. We hit the ground running, we're like the Marines of pregnancy, we not only just jumped out of a helicopter, but there was no parachute and we're landing in a rice pattie full of Charlie.
So when you find out you're pregnant at week 17, and have a 20 week ultrasound where the sonographer can determine the sex of your baby, you figure you might as well know, right? I mean since you're now into knowing things the more the better, and people are going to ask.
So we're excited now because all that waiting had been killing us, 3 whole weeks to find out if baby Buell is a boy or a girl!?
Have you had an ultrasound? Have you been told about this "full bladder" business?? Have you tried to maintain even the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder? Have you ever tried to maintain the tinsiest bit of pee in your bladder while you've been 5 months pregnant? This is like sniper training, if the rest has been like being in the Marines. So, Brandon picks me up to make our appointment with the sonographer, I've now had 2 - 16.9 oz. bottles of water and a 12 oz. bottle of juice to ensure that indeed my bladder is good and full as they require. "DON'T DRIVE CRAZY!" "DON'T HIT ANY BUMPS!" We make it to the clinic. Brandon drops me at the door and I waddle in, he parks the truck and meets me inside. "There will be a short wait"; perfect. We take our seats across from and older gentleman sitting by himself. After a failed attempt at reading 'National Geographic en Espanol', Brandon finds himself looking around the waiting room, he sees a restroom and uses it. I hate him with every ounce of my being for that. Once Brandon returns, the older gentleman strikes up a conversation with us. Topic of this conversation - his colonoscopy. Right now discussing someone else's trips to the bathroom are near the bottom of my list of things to discuss, particularly with a stranger. Not that I don't have compassion for my fellow man or the polyps they've found in this man, I just needed to keep my brain away from discussions involving toilets, bowels, frequency, etc. I've been holding it now for about 20 minutes, to alleviate the stress on my bladder I stand up. I now have the attention of the entire waiting room crowd, including the receptionist who makes a face at me like, "oh no, please don't let her be a terrorist." I grimaced and said with my best, trying to be quiet but still moving my lips voice, "I just really have to pee." She, looking relieved, started up a tutorial on how I could maybe use some trick . . . the door opened and the technician called me back. Whew! Boy was I excited to get this appointment moving! I hop up on the table and the sonographer starts the exam. "Whoa, your bladder is too full. You need to get some of that out." On the screen is a BIG BLACK BLOB underneath that, a tiny shuddering fetus. "Is that my bladder?" "Yes, take this cup and fill it twice, then I'll be able to see your baby better." She hands me a 12 oz. styrofoam coffee cup. I fill it twice and come back to the exam feeling much relieved. She starts again, with what she had described as a 2 hour exam. "It's still too full, go fill the cup twice again." I'm not one to brag, or maybe I am, but it required some pretty mad ninja skills to stop peeing after two cupfuls the first time, but if I had 2 hours before I'd be "going" for real, I took a stab at filling that cup for the second time. Success! Again I get back up on the table for the exam. STILL TOO FULL, she tells me just to go and empty my bladder until I am comfortable. (Remember, you and I have been told that a full bladder is of the utmost importance in getting a good ultrasound picture.) Now I go to the toilet and, nothing. My body had decided that this was some kind of evil torture and to hold on. After 5 minutes I finally started to pee and got it all out.
Back up on the table for the 3rd time, we start the exam. Brandon and I keeping our eyes intent on the screen for a glimpse at what could tell us, boy or girl. The technician was very interested in measuring the head, it seemed like she measured and re-measured the size of baby's head for an hour. As much as we want all parts to be "normal" and functioning, the head was not really the body part of intrigue today. She keeps measuring and remeasuring things, time ticking away and no big announcement. Instead, after like an hour and a half of looking at the "head." She calmly says, "Well, I'm not seeing a penis." Brandon and I look at each other and both say, "but isn't that the head?" "No that's not the head, that's the abdomen." Relieved we both say, "good because we wouldn't want one there. So what are you telling us?" She says, "I think you're getting a pink one." (Secretly that's what we wanted and were delighted out of our skin, but wanted to maintain our "we're really glad so long as it's healthy" faces.) I want to know just how confident she is with her guess. "I work at the Lottery and do a fair bit of explaining odds, tell me out of how many total guesses you've been correct." She says 99%. Good enough for us. As we leave the clinic we call all the grandparents and aunts and uncles to tell them the news. We were particularly concerned with Grandma Buell as she had instructed us to have a girl.
So that's the story, Brynn Alicyn will arrive sometime in July.
Now the fun part - shopping!
