We never find out what we are having. Each time we have been pregnant, we wait for the sweet surprise that was had by the millions of mothers around the world who, since time began, have waited the long nine months to learn the answer to the ever burning question: "Boy or Girl?".
While it is our tradition not to find out, one thing we always do is to go shopping together, Guy and I, to choose two outfits, one for each delightful possibility. We leave the tags on the outfits and hang them on the door and smile at them... at least I do. One will be our baby's first outfit, the other will become a gift later for another mom who probably has known for ages what she was having. It is a special tradition that I really cherish.
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When Ethan was born, the overwhelming circumstances of his traumatic birth had pushed his unknown gender to the furthest of back burners, so that when, in the midst of the cesarean, a squalling apple-red baby was aggressively yanked out of me and held up over the surgical screen for a flash with the proclamation, "It's a boy!", to be honest, the information didn't even compute. Guy had echoed the news to me with tears, "We have a son!". In my mind, I guess I kind of thought, "Oh. I am cut open right now. Tell me about it later."
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When little Adam burst onto the scene, a very different scene complete with a birth tub in my kitchen, the midwife said "Reach down and get your baby, mama." I scooped him up under his slippery little arms and lifted him out of the water, in a world of wonder that I had been able to push him out. My whole being was taking him in, the vernix on his back that I could feel as my fingers wrapped around hs tiny chest, his velvet skin, softer than anything I had ever felt, the relief of him being out and the sudden new pain radiating up my back from my tailbone, the utter wonder as I said over and over, "You came out! You came out, and it didn't take forever!"
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Then Guy said, "It's a boy!" and again, the information hit me in a wave of surprise. My brain was still at, "It's a baby! It's a baby!" Suddenly, we had moved on to other things.
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As we prepared for little Ellie to come, I made it clear to all present that, like the Little Red Hen, I grew the wheat and made the cake, and dammit all, I was going to taste it first. No matter what anyone saw, all were forbidden to speak the gender aloud until I had seen it first. It was over five minutes before it occurred to me to even look at her little bits to see if she was an apple with or without a stem.
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"Aw," I crooned in delight, "It's a girl." There was no need to shout it.
It is one of my favorite memories on this planet.
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When Tessa came, it was a bit sooner that we discovered she was she, maybe in the first two minutes after she was born. But I had been on the girl side of the fence the whole pregnancy so when I saw her, it was almost, "of course she's a girl."
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Last night a friend traded me two hair cuts on her boys for taking my four kids for an overnight. Score.
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Guy and I took our $10 coupon and waddled our way to the infant department of a big department store we never shop in. We worked our way through the racks and chatted about things that only parents and lovers talk about. We giggled and searched, and came up with a handful of outfits to choose from. Spreading them out we chose our favorites.
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"Is this your first baby?" a sales clerk asked.
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"Number five." we both answered back. How cute to think of this being our first.
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We made our half-off-plus-a-$10-coupon purchase (two outfits for $12, score again), and headed home. I held the little outfits on my lap and admired them all the way.
It's the last of many firsts, the last first outfit...
and soon the last first cry, first day, first step.
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Last boy or girl. And soon we will know.
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Today as I get ready for church, I am wondering if this will be my last pregnant Sunday.
Who knows.
I guess we'll be surprised.
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