The cat's out of the bag, or at least we know we're having a girl. The ultrasound was wonderful. I was so nervous, I really only wanted a healthy baby. I know it's cliche. But sayings become cliche because they are the truth. Any mother whose ever wanted a child just wants that child to be healthy. And our little one seems to be just that.
I busted out crying like an idiot when the ultrasonographer said girl. Now I can blame it on the double dose of estrogen flowing through my body. Brad and I said we'd have two kids. Nice number, no only child, and we all fit in a booth at restaurants. So I had told myself no matter if it was a girl or not that I would be happy. I love Turner, a sweeter boy was never put on this earth. If I had two boys, it's because God wanted me to have two. But we're having a girl. The shock is still fresh and the panic is just beginning.
What do I know about raising a girl? Oh wait, I am a girl. Well I felt the same way when we found out Turner was a boy. I had no clue what to do with a boy. Truth be told, Turner was the first boy baby I'd ever held. I had never changed one, much less been given a tiny helpless baby boy to take care of on my own. I was scared to death when the nurse brought Turner to me at about one am on his first night on this earth. Brad and my mother had already gone home. I had been asleep for about an hour when the nurse came in with my baby. He had just finished being cleaned up and weighed, and he wanted his mom. So I took him, handling him like the most fragile thing I had ever seen. I started to try to nurse him, that's when the nurse said she'd be back in a couple hours. A couple hours???!!! She was going to leave me unsupervised with this baby? I guess he was mine, but I was so scared that I'd do something wrong.
God, in His infinite wisdom, made newborns pretty easy to handle. All Turner wanted was to eat or be changed, and to never be more than a foot or two from me. I am so glad that you get to grow with your child. If they came here walking and talking already we'd never survive it. But, if after two or three months they've mastered rolling over and cooing, you're great with it. We get to adjust to new phases.
Now Turner's accomplishments are coming at rapid fire pace. He knows new words and concepts everyday. His problem solving ability is borderline dangerous, but I've had time to get ready for it. So maybe Tate won't get here with questions about boys and needing "The Talk" right away. We'll have time to grow into each other. Just because there'll be time doesn't mean I am not still panicking. But part of God's plan for new parents also involves being so tired that you can't panic over the future, you only have energy to get through the present.
Now our household will be getting a pink infussion, to balance out the blue. We are all looking froward to meeting this little miracle in the making. Brad is busy cleaning his shotguns. There's lots to do before she gets here, but we have a little time. Will this be our last? I don't know. My heart says no, no matter what logic my mind has come up with. But she'll be the last for a while.
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