Everything that begins to revolve around a pregnancy when an incipient belly can no longer hide it has always caught my attention: the comments about whether you are more beautiful (or not, that there are also those who say so), the advice that begins to arrive in spurts, and in a very special way, the wishes of all those who have the super power to guess if what you are expecting is a boy or a girl, just by seeing you with the first maternity dress.
I didn’t get rid of that. In fact, it was one of the first surprises I got when wearing maternity clothes became mandatory: family, friends and strangers declared that I was expecting a boy thanks to the “pointy shape” of my belly and I, a first-time pregnant woman with very little knowledge about the beliefs that years of tradition have been responsible for entrenching in the ideology, I began to believe what they told me.
At the 12-week ultrasound, the gynecologist confirmed what “everyone already knew”: he was a boy and everything was fine . His father, who had also gotten a little carried away by the emotion of knowing that his best company to dust off the Scalextrics was on the way, celebrated the news as if it were a World Cup.
But ultrasounds can also fail
Yes, the ultrasounds and the clairvoyant eyes of all those who have given birth (and those who have not), are also wrong. In the second ultrasound a “ the girl is perfectly ” left us frozen . Perhaps if they had told us that there were two of us, we would have been less surprised.
I still remember my husband’s face. Angry at the world for having made him excited about the arrival of his long-awaited partner in crime , he couldn’t say a word. I confess that at that moment, although very surprised, of course, my heart beat faster than ever: my girl was on her way and in the midst of all the confusion, I felt even happier . I swear that until that moment I didn’t care what it was, but from then on I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
And it was the best thing that ever happened to us.
I knew that the arrival of our little girl was going to change our lives and that her father would fall deeply in love with her (the anger lasted less than an hour, actually). I am sure that if it had been a boy things would have been the same, but that confusion made us think about some things very differently, such as the choice of name -which the family did not like, by the way-, and of course the way in which we would take the comments of all the people who gave their opinion of everything that had to do with the baby. It was a great plot twist, I can’t deny it, although in the next ultrasound we asked again if it was a boy or a girl, just in case .
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