After a stressful short period of time worrying about when I was going to have my 20 week scan (thanks to moving), I finally got a date sorted with my new local midwife. She managed to squeeze me in just before the ‘deadline’ (20 week scans are supposed to occur between 19 weeks, 5 days of pregnancy and 20 weeks, 5 days of pregnancy. Mine fell on 20 weeks, 4 days).
I was so relieved and excited once I was booked in. All I had to do was wait til the weekend was over, and then I could potentially find out what sex my baby is.
When the morning came (July 10th), I was stressed again. My stomach was acting up for some reason (I assumed it was constipation caused by the pregnancy) and I was in a lot of discomfort. I figured the stress was coming from the tummy ache – I get quite irritable when I feel poorly, especially when it is stomach related.
We got to the hospital with a little time to spare, found the maternity unit and sat down in the waiting room.
As we waited, I looked around and observed everybody coming and going. The room itself was ugly – it looked as though they had realised it needed a paint job, started to paint and then gave up after doing a patch of about two metres squared. The chairs were huge, blue plastic looking things. There were badly designed posters everywhere. All the other pregnant ladies were either much further along with their pregnancy or just at the start.
For some reason, I felt like fleeing. It became overwhelming just being in that waiting room. I wanted to cancel the whole thing and just hide at home.
Five minutes later, I was called in. My SO and I went into the room, my mum remaining on one of those ugly blue chairs. As soon as I laid down, my stomach ache subsided. The sonographer took a few details from me, put warm jelly on my bump and got started.
The 20 week scan is called the anomaly scan, and is carried out to check that the baby is developing normally. The sonographer took measurements of the baby’s head, brain and internal organs, as well as checking that all the organs were present. She also checked the position of my placenta (ew) which was thankfully above the baby (so that the baby comes out first rather than the placenta).
Everything was hunky-dory, which was a massive relief to hear. Even though the baby had (and continues to) kick very regularly, there was a part of me that was worried about how it was developing, whether it was even alive or not. To see the little heart beating, to see it moving and healthy – that cured what I now assume was a stress stomach ache.
After the checks were completed, I asked if the baby was in the right position for the sex to be checked. The sonographer did her magic and quite quickly found what she was looking for.
“You’re gonna have a baby girl” she said, explaining how these three little lines meant the sex was female (as well as how we couldn’t see any tiny penis dangling). My SO, who had been sitting on the chair at the end of the bed, kissed my foot.
I smiled and looked over at him, amazed about how I had known this whole time that we were having a girl, yet was somehow still in a bit of shock.
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, in a sort of Chandler style from that Friends episode (where Rachel and Ross break up again).
We had a new picture printed of her and shortly after were able to leave, letting family and friends know the news via text.
Sitting in the car, we texted a few more people as mum started the engine to begin the journey home. The radio turned on with it, and I kid you not (pun intended), the song that began to play was The Most Beautiful Girl In The World by Prince. I pointed out the coincidence as we drove out the car park, and not long after that, the tears started.
I blubbered behind my sunglasses, sort of leaning on my SO’s shoulder on the back seat. It was relief, shock, excitement all at once. Even thinking of that song playing now weakens my tear ducts.
It’s still an amazing thing to think about – not only was my motherly intuition correct, but somehow knowing the sex makes her seem much more real. I can’t believe that in a family with a majority of boys (on both sides), we’ve managed to make a girl. Even though all we have been imagining is a little girl, it’s still somewhat unbelievable that she’s really a she.
My hospital visits and scans increase in regularity from this point on, and of course, I’ll begin to really balloon out as she continues to grow. There are parts of me that are utterly terrified of getting bigger, of giving birth, of the responsibility that is soon to come. But there is a huge part of me that can’t wait to meet her.
See you in around 4 months, Violet.