I quite accidentally had my 20-week ultrasound this week. Because I am overseas at the moment, I was just going to give the whole thing a miss. Minor complication came up so the Doc ended up sending me for an ultrasound here. All is well and I enjoyed what will likely be the last ultrasound in the career of this tired uterus.
The ultrasound tech was keen to know if I wanted to know the gender of the baby.
My answer was as it always is: a definite NO. The ultrasound tech nearly hit the floor because she said that 99% of women in my situation are anxious to know. She hit the floor a second time when I asked her to write down the gender and put it in an envelope for me to hand deliver to my MIL. Apparently, that was a first for her.
I never find out the gender, but always allow my elder women folk to know. Nan and Oma are very tight-lipped and have never blown the surprise for me. I’ve also noticed they are more likely to engage in a bit of pre-birth grandmotherly shopping if they have the required info, which is always a good thing.
I don’t find out because feel like there are just too few surprises in life. As a c-section mama, I’ll know the birth date and having done this five times already, I know the baby will be just below or just above 7lbs. I even know what it will look like. If immediately after birth the baby was thrown into a nursery with fifty other newborns, I’d be able to pick mine out in an instant. So, there’s not a lot of mystery involved.
In addition, I really just don’t care what I’m having. I’ve got plenty of both but even if I had a single gendered family, I doubt I would be too invested in the gender. My SIL thinks that everyone secretly wishes for a specific gender and asked me to dig deep and tell her what I really wanted. I mentioned that a boy would be good for bedroom sharing reasons. Then I said that a girl would be good because there would be less worry about autism. I suggested I might have a better idea later in the pregnancy based on whether I’m happier with my girl or boy name choice. My SIL clarified that those reasons don’t count – the answer had to come from just a secret desire based on no practicalities. As such, she’s still waiting for my answer and I really don’t think I’ll be able to come up with one.
Another reason for not finding out is that I absolutely hate having the c-section. Lying on the table with the awareness that my guts are wide open really does my head in. Being able to look forward to the gender surprise is a good focus point for me while I’m freaking out about the actual c-section procedure.
I know it sounds cliche, but for many mamas like me who have experienced having a child with health or developmental issues, my true desire has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with health. I don’t feel like I’m in a position to get too much fussier than that.
* that is not a doll in Posy’s arms, but the baby who is soon to be de-throned.
**HUGE thanks for the support from all of you. The Mabelhood won best family blog in the Canadian Blog Awards!! THANKS!!!!
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We got some pretty bad news about Pa. He has cancer and things are not looking great. So on top of being sad and having a husband who is pretty much a basket-case, looming overhead was the overwhelming and inevitable question of how to deal with the kids.
I decided to look for guidance through my trusty message board of local moms. Someone out there would surely have some sage advice. I was shocked by two things.
Revelation #1: I got SO many amazing responses from parents who have already been down this nasty road. The support was incredible. I don’t know why it always shocks me since that has always been my experience, but I couldn’t help marvel that these very busy women took time (that I know they don’t have) to help me out with this.
Revelation #2: My instincts about dealing with kids and cancer were ALL WRONG! I fancy myself as having pretty good guts with this parenting stuff, but I couldn’t have been more off base. I was thinking I’d just be a rock, and I’d peer pressure Simon into being the same way. Turns out this is wrong on so many levels. Hmmm, who’da thunk it?
So today was the day that I dropped the bomb. I did a decent job of it…..explaining what cancer is, how it’s treated, what Pa will have to go through, inviting them to ask any questions, explaining that the grown-ups might seem sad or worried….you know the drill.
The question period started. Expecting a newly seven-year-old Posy to be my tough customer, I prepped diligently. I was a bit sweaty in the brow at the start of the round, but I was ready for her. Heck, I had even done research so she was not going to stump this prepared Momma. The Q&A opened with a predictable “is he going to die?” to which I applied my well rehearsed answer. The questions kept coming at me, shooting from every direction. I was on fire, fielding them all with style and grace.
One of her questions reminded me that there was one huge omission: you have to tell kids they won’t catch cancer from their loved one. Phew, since I was not reading off my ‘How To Tell Your Kids About Pa’s Cancer” info sheet, I missed what is considered to be one of the biggies. Q&A period provided great opportunity for any missed tidbits.
I was not expecting my eldest to come up with anything too hard to tackle. He has autism so sometimes this tricky stuff goes over with a little more ease. Turns out, I was not off the hook. Mack comes out with “so we can’t catch it like we can a cold, but Pa has DNA and he’s our Pa so does that mean we have the same cancer DNA?”
DNA? Why does he know about DNA? Has he been getting up late at night to watch CSI re-runs? How could I have possibly prepared for that one?!
I expect that as hard as I try to prepare for this journey with my family, I can only do so much planning and prepping. Some of the kid questions are going to be too hard, since I’ll be asking a lot of the same questions myself.
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Would you believe that a kid in the neighbourhood actually told my six-year-old that there is no Santa? I had to fight my initial instinct of shoving the kid’s face into a snowbank.
So my kid says, “Mommy, ‘so-and-so’ said there is no Santa. Is there?”
It’s not in my nature to outright lie to my kids, but I’m not quite ready to kiss the myth good-bye just yet. Quite frankly, I think I came up with a pretty clever response, if I do say so myself. I told her to go and tell this kid that she can believe what she wants but ‘if you don’t believe, you don’t receive’. My kid was quite happy with that comeback.
I was not satisfied. I had to tell the parents of this older child that they need to give a lesson to their little Santa myth-buster about operating on a ‘need to know’ basis. I was polite (no faces ended up in snowbanks) and the response was alarmingly good…a bit of guilt and a promise to have the discussion.
I have to admit, I’m the kind of mother who will discipline any child within reach and it has resulted in a few funny looks. When it happens I generally just scream: “last I heard, IT TAKES A VILLAGE!”. So maybe I’m the Village Idiot, but I’m OK with that.
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