Today, Dean and I went for the scan to check that everything is still proceeding normally, and hopefully to peer between the zergling’s legs and find out if the little munchkin is a boy or a girl. I keep giggling about that Monty Python sketch where the mom asks if it’s a boy or a girl only to be told by the doc that it’s a bit early to be imposing roles on it (you can watch here and skip to about the 3 minute mark for the line).
I will start all my deep and meaningful thoughts about how to raise this child and what gender means and all those things at a later date. Today, I am simply far too happy. I got to see my little girl today.
That’s right, I’m having a baby girl and her name will be Harley. She is still incredibly shy for the camera, preferring to face backwards instead of showing us her face, but I don’t even mind. I got to see her hands in front of her face, and her back and that little bum as she turned and moved in there. I got to be reassured that she it looking totally healthy and normal, smack bang in the middle of where her weight and growth should be.
Tomorrow, I head back to the doctor for an important scan. The last one told us that the baby is looking healthy and isn’t showing any signs of developmental issues or birth defects. This time, we’re going to find out if I’m growing a little Mason or a little Harley.
It’s an odd situation to be in, hoping that the munchkin spreads its legs and shows us what’s there (some babies are very shy on the scans). After that point, I won’t have to do the him/her thing anymore but can embrace which ever name and sex the kid is going to have. It’s yet another step towards making it real – to actually be able to refer to him or her by name, to start thinking of the alien I’m growing as an actual being.
I like to think that I’m generally pretty true to myself. It’s taken me a long time to get to a place in my life where I can be open and confident about all facets of my personality, where I don’t have to hide who I am. I proudly declare my interests, my irritations and those causes for which I’m willing to stand. I suppose that’s one of my proudest achievements as an adult – I feel like I know myself and I am not afraid to be my own person.
That is, until this new phase of my life started. I don’t like to pigeon hole myself as a general rule, but there are certain identities that I accept and have embraced. Things like geek, gamer, woman, journalist, blogger, food pornographer. Whatever the case may be, I’m happy with the things I do and how I’ve chosen to define myself.
Even while being worried last night about what the future might hold, I had a brief glimmer where I imagined holding that little baby in my arms. It was exactly what I needed and a beautiful moment to pause and realize that in a few short months, the life I’m growing inside me will be out in the world. And in that same moment, it made me think about when he or she is out in the world at large. The little life that isn’t even fully formed yet, growing inside me, will one day go out and talk to people, make friends, fall in love and maybe travel the world.
I have all these things I want to do with the little rugrat while he or she is growing up. I want to read all my favorite stories with him or her, as well as teach mythologies of all kinds. I’d love for the kid to be fluent not just in Greek or Norse mythology, but also in Lovecraftian mythos and Star Wars lore. It’s the combination of all those ways of explaining the universe that help us create our own mythology; our own way of interpreting the world and how we want to behave.
There was a running joke in my family for years. You see, my parents didn’t get along well with their parents, and the acrimonious relationship led to some rather awful comments over the years. Now, I’m not entirely sure what the context was or even whose parents said it, but all I know is that at some point my parents were arguing that they just wanted to do something and be happy together, to which one of their fathers said, “Happy? Who’s happy? You think your mother’s happy?”
It’s one of those awful quotes that made us laugh for far too many years as we wondered how anyone could be so blatantly and proudly unhappy. It’s been a joke we whip out whenever one of us is saying how something might make us unhappy, or how all we want is to be happy about something.