Last updated on November 26th, 2018 at 08:57 pm
I was elated to find out I was pregnant, as almost any Mom-to-be would. I was even more elated to find out that they were going to tell me the sex of the baby before hand.
I’m a control freak. We’re talking serious type-A personality here. There was no way I couldn’t know if I was having a boy or a girl. I mean, I NEEDED to plan right?! I refused to be one of those neutral color moms. It was pink and purple or blue and green, not.. yellow or beige. When I hit 24 weeks my Midwife offered me an ultrasound and I was all over that.
One excruciating hour of the innocent tech pushing so hard on my bladder I thought I would pee all over the table, and one liability waiver later, I heard those 3 little words:
“It’s a girl!”
Ohmygosh — a GIRL! I was so excited. Almost immediately, the nursery looked like someone had puked Pepto Bismol all over it. Everything was pink, and fluffy… and pink. I picked out the cutest little princess-y outfit I could find and packed it in my hospital bag (along with a purple soother, pink receiving blankets, and an adorable little pink hat/mitten combo). I was ready.
16 weeks later the hospital called, to let me know I was being induced the next day. I was instantly terrified. This was my first baby! I didn’t know what to expect, only what I had read and seen on TV — which we know is horrific. My man wasn’t home when I got the call but he came home shortly after. He found me half shaven, bawling my eyes out, stuffed into our miniature claw-foot bath tub. I’m not sure if was fear that made me cry, or the fact that I couldn’t reach far enough to finish shaving (#pregnantproblems) and was scared of a room full of medical professionals seeing the jungle I was rocking from the waist down. Nonetheless, he cleaned me up and put me to bed.
The big day finally came and after 16 hours of labor and 1 glorious epidural it was time to start pushing. Well more like time for the Doctor, to use what looked like a medeval tortur device, to pull the baby out.
“Okay Brittany, the head is out, one final big push!” the Doctor exclaimed. I gave it everything I had left (which at the time wasn’t much).
Then my sister, bless her, totally rocks my world. “OMG BRITTANY IT’S A BOY!!!”
Um, pardon me? No no no, you don’t understand. Everything is pink. EVERYTHING IS PINK!
But they weren’t playing the most twisted joke of all time, he really was a little boy. A beautiful, healthy, 9 ½ pound baby boy. The nurses and doctors all congratulated me, to which all I could reply was “Everything is pink.” I was stunned. The funny thing is, once they put that gorgeous tiny human in my arms, it didn’t matter anymore. None of that mattered. Pink, purple, blue, green, hell even yellow or beige. I couldn’t care less. He was perfect.
My perfect baby boy.
Has this ever happened to you? Tell me about it in the comments section!
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