Yesterday we sandwiched in a trip to get an ultra-sound in-between work, shopping for the meal we cook for 150 needy folks, and a meeting I had at the church.
It was a non-stop day, from 5:30am till 10pm, one thing after another. The stop at the lab was a moment of rest in many ways. We sat in the lounge for almost an hour, entertaining Celia and enjoying the way she approached everyone who gave her eye contact. By the time Michelle was called in, Celia was getting restless, and the extra fifteen minutes we had to wait before they let us in drew on uncomfortably.
After she began loudly warbling to a new couple who’d just sat down, I scooped her up and began pointing at things and explaining them. “That’s a painting of flowers. Do you like those flowers, Celia?”
“And that’s a painting of islands. In fact, I’ve been to that island. It’s just up the coast. It’s called Anvil Island.”
Celia reached out and touched the painting.
But before long, we’d seen everything there was to see. I instinctively began to softly sing into her ear as I strolled back and forth in the lobby. I felt her relax in my arms, and I changed songs. It was only after I’d been at it for five minutes that I looked at a woman who was watching me, and realized what I was doing. I grew a bit uncomfortable. It was so instinctive, I hadn’t even thought of others being around. But then I thought, that’s silly, they probably appreciate a bit of singing as they all wait for their appointments.
I changed songs and continued singing into her ear until they called us in. I’d been preparing Celia for a whole week for this. She owns a book on expecting a younger sibling, so I was able to explain a number of times, “In the picture where you see the doctor putting an instrument on Mommy’s belly, and we get to see the baby… Well, that’s what we’re doing today.”
When they called us in I said, “Now we get to see what the baby looks like in Mommy’s belly, and we get to know whether it’s a girl or boy.”
Celia looked at Michelle lying on the table with interest. At first, the technician showed us how all the parts looked normal, and we got a good look at the baby as a whole. Then she paused and said, “It’s a boy.”
“What? Where?” I asked.
“Okay,” she adjusted her instrument, “Look there.”
“Ahh. Okay, I’ve seen it. I believe it.” I smiled at Michelle. A boy. I don’t know what I expected, but I’m certainly thrilled. In all honesty, even though I’ve already had a baby, the whole pregnancy thing feels unreal to me. I still fail to grasp that I’m the father of another child.
I suppose Michelle has an easier time at realizing it, since the little dude is squirming all over the place in there, but for me, it’s just a lump in her belly until he’s born. But now that I know his sex, and the name we’ve discussed for him, he’s starting to feel like a real person.
I know some people don’t like to find out the sex of their baby before birth. My brother did that. For us, we figured it would help us mentally prepare and know who we’re praying for in there. And frankly, I’m just thrilled. It’s great to have another piece of the puzzle figured out.
So, Celia will be a big sister in about four or five months. I’m sure she’ll be great. And the more I think of it, the more glad I am that we’re having a boy. Right now the house if full of females – my wife, my daughter, our housemate, the cat. Time to level out the playing field a bit – add some testosterone to things.
Yep, I can feel myself getting excited already. It’s a boy. A little joy. Oh boy.