So It Goes

I mean, that's what people do these days.  They have the scan and at some point the scan does the big reveal and Mum goes shopping in either the pink or the blue baby aisle.

But then there are those people who say they don't want to know.  My son, for example, is one of those, and it isn't easy coping with the anticipation of the impending birth (supposed to happen today) and not know. But then again, it’s not like I knew with mine. 

These days, the idea of keeping Mum (couldn’t help myself) about the sex or not finding out at all seems quite fey but rather nice, and on lots of levels, I get it.

But I am the person who reads the back of the book first and doesn't mind knowing how the movie ends before I go to see it.  In fact, I prefer to know how it ends. 

I always hope it will end in a good way and this forward knowledge gives me the courage to sit through the icky parts knowing that after the final spin cycle, everything will emerge clean and intact.

When I had my children, being told you were having a scan was not necessarily a happy event.  Scans then seemed to be used only as a clarification tool and then for things that you didn't necessarily want to hear about. 

I for example, had a scan when I lost my first baby and the other scan was at eight months with pregnancy number five (and child number four) to figure out a breech delivery.  

Perhaps it was to circumvent the fear I was feeling at the impending birth, that I asked for the sex of the child and was told she was a girl.  I had three boys already and I decided he was probably wrong.  I wasn’t going to start looking at dresses yet.

The great things about babies of course is that any result is a good result. Only the mother has to suffer the icky part.  We just get to come in at the happy ending.  Boy or girl, we are always delighted.

I may not know much in advance but I do know is that my stomach is filled with butterflies that flit close to a heart bursting to meet our newest family member.     

-  Linda Muller