Today is the day we find out what we’re having, trips be willing.
Ever since the perinatologist told us in Week 13 that Trip C was looking like a boy, I’ve been convinced that Trips A & B were also “with weiner,” but were reluctant to ‘fess up. So, to mentally prepare myself for the idea of growing half a hockey team inside me, I’ve been telling friends and family that I’m sure we’re having three boys. I don’t necessarily want three boys, but I don’t want to be disappointed if that’s what I get.
In the waiting room, the nerves start to set in. I tenderly pet Matt’s head, then start tenderly petting the artificial Spanish moss that’s in the window behind his head without realizing it. Luckily, my name is soon called, and we’re lead to a room where I am told to provide a urine sample and strip from the waist down so they can check my cervix before we take a look at the trips. My idea of a perfect morning.
The ultrasound technician is an upbeat, laid-back lady. We get down to business. Ultrasound wand is inserted, cervix is measured, wand is removed, and warm lube is squirted all over my stomach. Things are getting sexy.
This is our fifth ultrasound since we found out we were pregnant, but the thrill of seeing the trips hasn’t diminished. As soon as those ghostly little skeleton blobs appear, Matt and I are both grinning like idiots. We start the screening with Trip A, checking out the the brain, spine, heart, stomach, arms, legs, and … penis.
“Looks like you have a boy!” the technician chirps. “Oh man,” I say. Matt squeezes my hand. If Trip A is a boy, that means his identical twin, Trip B, is a boy. And that means we probably have three boys.
When we tell the technician that the perinatologist put her money on Trip C being a boy, she quickly slides the ultrasound over to Trip C’s amniotic lair and takes a look. “Yep,” she says. “He’s a boy.”
Three boys. I am officially naming my uterus the Man Cave.
The longer I sit with the news, the more excited I become. I always felt like I’d be the mother to boys. It’s a great challenge and an awesome responsibility. The ultrasound technician has three sons of her own. “It’s a lot of fun,” she assures me. “Once, my husband got mad at one of my sons, and my son picked him up in a bear hug until he started laughing.”
This I can deal with. A life of superheroes, frogs, wrestling, and dirt. A life that may have more trips to the ER, but fewer weddings to pay for. A life of Matt being airborne in the arms of our sons.
Today was a good day.