Written by Sarah In the Trenches of Mommyhood.
Hubby and I met with a fertility specialist in order to conceive our first child. Ok, that sentence sounds kind of weird and kinky. Let me rephrase: I was prescribed the fertility drug Clomid to aid Hubby and me in the conception of our firstborn. We chose to not find out the sex of our baby. It was like holding a festively wrapped Christmas present that you aren't allowed to open. Yet, all myths, old wives tails and Chinese calendars indicated GIRL.
So, needless to say, it was definitely shocking when, after hearing that first newborn cry and sobbing with relief, Hubby shouted over the c-section drape to ask, "What is it?!" and the response was "A boy!" Huh? What did you say?
2 joyful years pass with our son. Another appointment with the fertility specialist for more Clomid. Another pregnancy. Another opportunity to hold the Christmas gift and not open it. A totally different pregnancy this time around, so this one has to be a girl, right?? Lydia was to be her name.
So, needless to say, it was definitely shocking when, after hearing that first newborn cry of our second child and sobbing with relief, Hubby proceeded to peek over the c-section drape to announce to the entire operating room, "It's a boy and he has HUGE balls!", proceeding to crack everyone up. Except me. Pure shock and disbelief. What did you say? Another boy? How could it be?
A mere 3 months pass. A wedding. An overnight away from our two little boyz. Certainly no Clomid involved. Just lots of alcohol.
6 more weeks pass. A pregnancy test. I call Hubby crying.
We're incredulous. This one HAS to be my long-awaited daughter.
Ummm, excuse me Miss Ultrasound Technician, but what the hell did you say? Apparently, if I want another female to join me In the Trenches, I'm just going to have to get a dog and name her
In The Trenches of Mommyhood. I had a mind once. Now I have small children.