Baby Girl's Third Leg

I sat on the table, the paper crinkling under my slowly expanding bottom, my hands clenched at my sides.  The lights were dimmed as the tech squeezed a cold blob of goo onto my abdomen.  It was time for my 16-week ultrasound.

It was time for me to see who was growing inside me.

I was nervous as hell, as was to be expected.  Pregnancy #1 hadn't gone to well and had ended after only 11 weeks.  This little girl was sticking around though, I knew it, I could feel her strength, I could see my belly slightly expanding, I could imagine her tiny hair follicles growing into downy strawberry blonde curls.

I just needed to see her and she would be real.

The tech smiled as she angled the ultrasound wand around.  "Looking good," she said.   My little princess measured at the perfect size for her e.d.d., her little heart was pumping away, her profile looked a bit like an alien, but so what.  She was doing okay.

"Do you want to know the sex?"  the tech asked.

Hell yes.  I was not going to buy all green and yellow clothes for her.  I needed to break out all my old Barbies, stuffed animals, and Cabbage Patch Kids to decorate her room.  I needed to make a final decision on the nursery set.  I needed to have those little knit Mary Jane booties sitting in her drawers waiting for her delicate feet.

I squeezed Hubby's hand as shivers ran down my spine.  "Yes, tell us," I gushed.

"Congratulations.  It looks like you are having a boy."

My smile dropped faster than boobs after breastfeeding. Did I hear hear right? No freakin way.  IT CAN'T BE A BOY!  Hubby reached down and gave me a hug, looking so proud of himself for possessing masculine sperm.

"Are you sure?"  It was early.  How could she be so sure?

She pointed out the painfully obvious fifth appendage on the image.

What's worse: a girl with three legs or a boy? 

I wasn't sure.

I pasted on my dazed country club smile {no teeth and glazed over eyes} and held it together long enough to reach the parking lot. Then I proceeded to collapse as I broke into hysterical tears.

 I can't have a boy.  I was always supposed to have a girl.  I don't have any brothers.  I have no clue what to do with a boy.  He won't play dolls, or wear cute dresses and pig-tails while playing with My Little Ponies.    He'll pee standing up and stick bugs up his nose and fight and like sports and comic books and want me to buy him playboys when he's a teen.  I can't do this.  I'M SUPPOSED TO HAVE A GIRL.

Somehow I made it to work.  I sat in the lunchroom like a zombie clutching the ultrasound in my lap, just staring at the alien creature growing inside me.   A co-worker asked me who's picture it was.  Her eyes grew wide when I said it was mine--I had yet to even announce I was pregnant.  She whooped and attracted everyone's attention when I said it was a boy.  Congratulations and well wishes flew around the room like a swarm of mosquitoes.  In the end, I was emotionally drained.

Don't worry.  By the time my son was born I was completely sold on the whole boy thing.  I wouldn't have it any other way.   But I needed a little time to get used to the idea.  Much better to break down in an empty parking lot than the delivery room, right?

This post was in response to one of Mama Kat's writing prompts:
Barefoot and hormonal…describe an incident that upset you when you were pregnant, but now looking back makes you laugh.