Firstly, a correction. It’s not that Mum didn’t want the lemon water it’s that she didn’t want the pinch of sea salt in it. I should have known better. After all I have become quite the Jedi and my powers of persuasion and mind reading are developing nicely – not bloody quick enough though. I’m considering going to the dark side.
On Wednesday we had our appointment with the doctor to do this panorama test. Obviously we had another scan and it looks as though you’re developing quite nicely. You’re a shade under 3 centimeters long now. We can see your little arms developing… in all fairness you look like a cross between Alien and T-rex. You were wiggling and moving around shaking your wee t-rex arms about the place and your heart rate was still topping 160bpm.
Once all the cool stuff has been done (the scan basically) we get down to business. ‘Would you like to know the sex?’ the doctor says. Mum looks at me like she doesn’t know what I want… to reiterate, I want to know. Mum can be a silly sausage sometimes and asks me the same question 2, 3 or 4 times just to check that I haven’t changed my mind – I rarely have… silly Mum! So we end up going back and forth a few times before the doctor decides ‘why don’t I check the box that says find out sex and you can decide any time you like if you’d like to know.’ Seems reasonable… we agree and move on. Secretly I’m just like ‘just tick the fucking box lady!’
Mum is doing great and still doesn’t really have any symptoms of pregnancy except for being a bit more tired still. So the scan came as a bit of a relief to see you squirming around in there. Mum has started following this fitness model chick on Instagram who is 14 weeks I think – she’s pretty hot and hardly got a bump. Mum loves her, hates her, compares herself to her, wants to be her, and wants to stab her in the face for her shit smug updates… I think she’s going to ‘unfollow’.
Went to another brunch this weekend for Rai’s birthday and had to pretend to be drinking booze again. Not too long to go with all this bullshit lying, deception and misdirection… it’s really starting to piss me off.
The master plan I think has been dealt a fatal blow… we were planning on telling friends that we were expecting you on my birthday this coming weekend as we expected to have the test results back. But we won’t have the results for 3-4 weeks. Bollox.
There’s been a long wait but the results are finally in and they are as clear and definitive as can be. Are they fuck!? What we got was a list of what I assume were chromosomal markers for developmental disorders and alongside them was a probability marker… like 1/12,000 and another column which suggested the ‘safe zone’. After Mum did a bit of googling and explained it to me all was fine and the results in fact what were we expected – normal. If there had been any issue with anything I’m sure the doctor would have called us in. We have another scan/doctor meeting on Wednesday (day after tomorrow) so we can ask our questions.
FYI: if you ever have any questions about anything, ever – ask your mother. If Google ever handed out certificates, awards or even doctorates related to Google use she would crush the universe of Google users. True story!
So now it’s out there… people know we’re having a baby. No more impossible secrets, military-type urban evasion techniques or outright bullshitting. Thank God!
The very next day I had rugby training in the morning… a very hot Friday morning. After all the shit I’ve spoken about how rubbish this secret is to keep I forgot that it was OK to tell anyone. Twat! So then I was chatting with some of the senior ladies team once training had ended and the conversation came around to the kids coaching (which happens just before the senior ladies train) and then realized I could openly say that we were going to have a baby… OMG! There it goes… ‘Oh, by the way girls, my wife and I are pregnant with our first child’… and that was it. I mean, I’m a low key kind of guy but the seemingly and overtly lack of enthusiasm and excitement at what was happening almost went unnoticed! I know this handful of girls reasonably well as I see them more often than I see some of my friends, such is the coaching commitment, but I felt like I had to build up a little bit of courage to even say it out loud. What a fucking anticlimax.
On Wednesday the doctor is bound to ask us: ‘would you like to know the sex?’ Mum is still swaying between wanting to know and wanting the Hollywood moment of me proudly announcing your sex to her once you’re out… ‘Do you want to meet your new son/daughter?’ I’ll still love you if you watch these bullshit RomComs distorting perceptions of real life – but I won’t stop ripping them apart as you watch that utter garbage.