One of the joys of being an older pregnant woman, aside from the whole geriatric label, is all the fun genetic testing you get to experience.
I’ve given more blood than a vampire consumes on a weekend bender, the kind where you wake up in the gutter the next morning with remnants of last night’s shenanigans still stuck to your face.
Full disclosure: there is one perk of having a…hmm, shall be say, “mature” pregnancy, and I don’t mean it in a moral compass, grown up, type way; we all know I failed at that long ago. No, the benefit is finding out the baby’s gender ridiculously early and also completely by surprise, if you’re me.
(source; Hey there little fella.)
So inside of dramatically whipping out a pink ribbon or blue bow tie, biting into a cupcake filled with food dye, or having a balloon explode with colored confetti in your face (although that last one could be fun), I’ve decided to share exactly how I received the news.
Allow me to set the scene: it’s a random Monday in mid-October. I am happily working away at the office, doing my best to quell my nausea and pretend like the smell of someone’s lunch isn’t making me sick. No one at work knows of my situation. My cell phone interrupts my reverie.
♫ Teenage wasteland. It’s only teenage wasteland. Teenage wasteland, oh yeah. Teenage wasteland. They’re all wasted ♫
Me: Hello, this is Meghan.
Doctors Office: Hi Meghan, it’s Doctor Vampires Office calling to report on your latest round of blood work. The results are negative.
Me: um, does negative mean positive here?
Doctors Office: Negative means normal.
Me: Oh great, good news. Thanks for calling and letting me know.
Doctors Office: wait, wait, one more thing. Based on your blood work, we also know the gender of the baby. Do you want to know?
Oops, sorry about that. You caught me off guard. Please, go ahead; lay it on me.
Doctors Office: It’s a girl.
(source: I can’t believe this exists)
Now, a nice normal wife might choose to surprise their husband with any of the aforementioned things, although I refuse to spend a single cent on a gender reveal duck. With cupcakes, there’s at least a chance; they’re edible and filled with sugar. A proper spouse might simply decide to share the news in person or at the very least pick up the phone and call.
Not me though. Nope, I opted to catch him off guard, in much the same fashion as I myself was surprised. It seemed fitting, although the Hubby might have a different take.
What’s your take on all this gender reveal business?