1 Miracle, 3 Guardian Angels: It’s a ……

{WARNING: I will reveal the gender during this post, and some of you may want to scroll to the end, but I promise you….read all the juicy details in between! I won’t let you down!!}

The long, awaited day had finally arrived. I had spent the last four weeks agonizing, anxious, and more or less a pain in my husband’s rear while we waited to see (and hear) how our bundle of joy was doing. I couldn’t shake that kid waiting for Christmas feeling and it was getting worse by the hour on the morning of June 25, 2012. Mike was working a half day and due home around 1:00 P.M. so that we could be on the road no later than 2:15. I had to keep telling myself, “I can handle this…five more hours; four more hours; when Mike gets home it will only be two hours and fifteen minutes; once we start driving it will only be one more hour; when we get there it will be a matter of minutes”. You would think this may have helped curb my can’t-wait-to-see-my-baby syndrome…it didn’t. I was worse than your quintessential kid waiting for Christmas – this was my Christmas and I was growing more impatient by the minute.

This was happening for three reasons: #1. We were due to find out baby’s gender and that was a brand new experience for us (with Harper, we opted to wait until delivery to find out the gender and it was THE BEST SURPRISE OF MY LIFE); #2. It had been four agonizing weeks since I had last heard my baby’s heartbeat and been reassured that he or she was doing marvelously; #3. I had essentially waited a VERY long year and a half for the moment that I would be almost halfway through a successful pregnancy and able to breathe (a little, not completely) easier.

The good news is that I survived the wait, the four week wait, and the multiple hours wait. We hit the road a little early (I told you I was anxious) so that we could arrive our appropriate fifteen minutes before our appointment time. Remember those feelings of extreme anxiety and waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop?? I had been doing very well with them as of late, until we were about half way to our appointment. My last ultrasound had been at nine weeks, and I had been down this road before: successful nine week ultrasound with a devastating ultrasound later in my pregnancy. I was growing terrified with each mile Mike drove and I rode. This couldn’t be a repeat of my last pregnancy; God wouldn’t let that happen…..would he??

We arrived early to our 3:15 appointment time, signed in, and took a seat. Apparently, I am REALLY good at making sure I have a full bladder for ultrasounds, because, if I moved just right in my seat, I was sure I was going to create a MAJOR mess right there. It didn’t help that the ultrasound technician was running behind and we didn’t get in until after 3:30. It also didn’t help that we were going to be spending a considerable amount of time with a different ultrasound technician. Until now, I had been seeing the same ultrasound technician each time I went in. She was there for all of my blissful ultrasounds with Harper and my devastating ultrasounds with babies #2, 3, and 4.

I am going to digress for a minute: when you have a history such as mine, you look for all possible ways to avoid reliving those nightmarish days. When it comes time for appointments, you only want to deal with people familiar with your history because you know they will be sensitive. Not that other people aren’t, but if they haven’t reviewed my file, there are just certain questions people ask to make conversation, at no fault of their own. I cringe every time I have to deal with someone I haven’t seen before: it usually ends with awkward silence and me on the verge of tears.

We were called back to a different ultrasound room with a different technician. I am not adept to change…it’s a major fault of mine, so this was causing even more anxiety as I walked to the room and eventually slid onto the ultrasound table. My wonderful husband held my hand the entire time: while sitting in the waiting room, walking back to the room, and even while I was managing to maneuver myself onto the table. He never let go; he’s pretty intuitive and knows that all I need in the way of reassurance from him is to know that he is there.

The ultrasound started as usual:

“I have you down as 18 weeks, is that correct?” “Yes, 18 weeks on the dot.”

“Would you like to find out the gender?” (Turns head to husband…just to double check) A unanimous “YES!” rang throughout the room.

“Let’s get started”

{Insert an enormous inhale and held breath}.

THANK GOD! There was a very strong heartbeat right away that allowed for me to exhale and not make my face look as though I had just stood on my head for an extended period of time. Now, Mike and I, no matter how “Old Wives Tale” it is, have always put some truth in the whole heartbeat-determining-gender thing. Harper’s heartbeat was always high, and we have researched that, at times, a boy’s heartbeat is generally low (130’s-140’s). Do I know that this is just a myth and cannot really determine gender? YES! Do I still use it to make an educated guess! YOU BET! So, when our ultrasound technician told us the heartbeat was very strong at 154, I was certain she was getting ready to tell us we would be blessed with another curly haired baby girl. Mike was also convinced, going into this appointment, that we were having a girl and his life was about to be overrun by women telling him what to do (Don’t let him fool you…he enjoys that aspect of his life!!)!

The appropriate measurements and photos were taken, and the time had finally arrived: GENDER TIME! I already had a little sneak peek as baby would NOT stop moving and the ultrasound wand had visited that area once, very very quickly. I had a sneaking suspicion as to baby’s gender, but I’m not trained…so what do I know?!

I know now is the time that you are expecting me to reveal whether or not Baby Aguirre is a boy or girl. I gave the disclaimer at the beginning that you would need to read ALL the details, so I’m not going there just yet.

After an exciting ultrasound appointment, a few tears shed by both my husband and myself, and oodles of pictures later, we were visiting our doctor. Everything looked good as far as my health during pregnancy was concerned: blood pressure was excellent, baby sounded good and I had yet to gain any weight (Don’t scold, I’m still carrying residual weight from previous pregnancies, and my doctor isn’t concerned).

Are you ready? Have I tortured you long enough? Below I have posted beautiful photos of our newest addition: I hope you enjoy them as much as we have. The last one will reveal the gender.