I kept telling everyone, "It's a boy. I can feel it. Mother's intuition". That was bullshit. I had no idea- all I knew was that I wanted a little girl so badly. I had these vividly clear pictures of me with my daughter and could not, at all, picture myself with a boy. I've had her name picked out since the pee hit the stick. I have her entire wardrobe picked out online. I felt horrible because I knew I would be disappointed if they said it was a boy. I knew that wouldn't be fair to my son. After all, his penis wouldn't be his fault. So, I just kept saying "boy" to keep my hopes firmly grounded.
But, last night, Papa-to-be, Kelsey, my dad and I went to the Ultrasound lab. I lay on the table, the contents of my now-huge belly projected onto a 100 inch screen in front of us. Speakers pumped the galloping heartbeat into the room. Kelsey held her phone up so Amy could hear it. I cried. And, there it was, my baby's perfect fist. Fingers curled up, the curve of a perfectly stacked spine, the round of a tiny head. I couldn't breathe. "Is he healthy?", I asked.
"Actually", the ultrasound tech answered, "It's a girl. But, yes, she looks perfect".
I cried again. I should have trusted my mother's intuition after all.
I knew it was you, Miss Kaya Holiday, and I can't wait to meet you.
