“That is a very healthy looking sausage,” said my obstetrician during a scan of my second baby. This was quickly followed by, “Oh; Do you know what you’re having..?”….blush/no eye contact….
Ummm…I do now…”No, we don’t,” I stammered.
I went home, taught my son to pronounce our chosen boys name and imagined my life surrounded by males. It was good. I fantasized about Saturday morning sleep in’s and regular Anna arvo’s whilst ‘the boys’ headed off to the AFL footy. I breathed a sigh of relief I wouldn’t have to magically hone hair and makeup skills for ballet recitals, or prepare for the period saga and teenage girl mood swings.
Two healthy boys would be a blessing.
I had suspected a boy all along.
We were pretty sure two would be our magic number (“STOP! STOP!!!! No more!” screamed my aching OLD body.) This meant we wouldn’t get to use our beautiful chosen girls name and honour my Mother-in-Law who had passed away a few months previously. I was a little sad I wouldn’t get to see Husband wrestle with lopsided pig-tails or wear a tiara to make ‘her’ giggle. I was sorry my folks wouldn’t get another rare (in our family), beautiful granddaughter, or have the chance to give her her first Barbie (Pretty In Pink barbie for me; oh what a glorious day!!)
We were pretty sure two would be our magic number (“STOP! STOP!!!! No more!” screamed my aching OLD body.) This meant we wouldn’t get to use our beautiful chosen girls name and honour my Mother-in-Law who had passed away a few months previously. I was a little sad I wouldn’t get to see Husband wrestle with lopsided pig-tails or wear a tiara to make ‘her’ giggle. I was sorry my folks wouldn’t get another rare (in our family), beautiful granddaughter, or have the chance to give her her first Barbie (Pretty In Pink barbie for me; oh what a glorious day!!)
I steadied myself, got excited and remembered a live baby was the utmost gift. And then that obstetrician handed me my pink, (bloody), squishy, beautiful daughter.
She does not sit still for pigtails; dammit, I can’t even get a boofy up-fountain to work properly yet (see my handiwork above), but she does rock a good, plastic tiara. As yet, I have not faced dance classes or periods (Oh God save us!!), but she does like to kick a footy and throw sand at people. She is feisty and fun and wrestles like the Hulk (one of her very first words!)
“A healthy sausage????” I asked my obstetrician …. “Boy???”
Well, apparently that is code for one healthy, pumping umbilical cord. Yay me!
A pigeon pair, they say.
To me, this conjures up images of perfection, domesticity..and, well, nests..? These people have clearly never been in my house at 7.10pm in the evening. But if they wait till perhaps 8.10pm (or thereabouts…’ish..on a bloody good night), they may see me tucking in to my very own version of a pigeon pair…wine and chocolate.
Dark chocolate of course.
I’m on a health kick.
To me, this conjures up images of perfection, domesticity..and, well, nests..? These people have clearly never been in my house at 7.10pm in the evening. But if they wait till perhaps 8.10pm (or thereabouts…’ish..on a bloody good night), they may see me tucking in to my very own version of a pigeon pair…wine and chocolate.
Dark chocolate of course.
I’m on a health kick.
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