I have always known that my Mom and my brother have a special relationship. She does not love Darin more than Jessica, Rebecca or me or show favoritism, but there is something in her eyes that only sparkles when she looks at her son. I think that this mother-son link is similar to the father-daughter link; it is implicit and touches our souls in a distinct way. So, I am thrilled to announce that I will experience this mother-son connection in only a few short months (barring a misread on the part of ultra sound technician). Yes, it’s a BOY!
I waddled into the waiting room gleefully. Waddling not because I am so large yet, but because my bladder was about to burst, per doctor’s orders. With a quick scan I quickly surmised that we were probably the happiest people there. The majority of patients at a medical imaging facility are there to explore much scarier things than a little baby. I tried to keep my cool and not make light of the thick tension in the room.
Once in the small room, Dave stood near my feet with a clear shot at the little screen, and Kelly, the technician, swirled warm gel over my increasingly-large belly. The three of us stared at the screen as a mirage of black and white static gave way to a head, torso, arms and legs.
A moment later she said, “It looks like a boy. See, right there?" She pointed at the screen. I did not see anything that resembled "boy" but Dave later said that he saw it. In a subsequent phone call Lindsay suggested, "Maybe it takes one to know one."
This was not a moment we were prepared for. We were convinced it was a girl and had referred to my belly as “Brielle” since the pregnancy test came out positive. My smile froze as I attempted to convey a healthy baby is all we care about and Dave bit his tongue from saying, “Wrong answer, check again.” [This will be a comical (though omitted) portion of the story in the future and only two days later we are already dreamy-eyed about a little boy.]
“There is the arm,” Kelly was saying and I looked up, wide eyed, as I saw my son reach up with tiny arms and touch his mouth with five tiny fingers. If hearing the heartbeat did not convince me, this did. There is a real person in there!
That night I poured over Dave’s childhood picture album, wondering how our son will look as a baby, a toddler and a kid. I wonder if he will have Dave’s thick curly hair, his smile, his kind demeanor. I wonder what of me will show up—hopefully something good. I cannot wait to hold him in my arms and stare at his face and tell him, “Don’t worry, just relax, you are going to have a wonderful life.”
