I lay there on my back with protruding stomach as the ultrasound tech zoomed over the lumps in my belly. “It’s a girl,” he said. “Are you sure?” I asked, knowing that sometimes when they predict a girl it is because of what they don’t see as opposed to what they do see. “There’s the vulva,” he answered. And my husband, the father of two boys went a little pale.
When my husband and I chose to have a third baby, we just assumed it was going to be a boy. We had two boys already and we were pretty sure that he was shooting all X chromosomes at that point. But we had a girl.
We didn’t do anything special, I didn’t take supplements, eat sweet food or count the days before and after ovulation. I have to admit that I did check out the Shettles and Whelan strategies for having a girl, but since they are diametrically opposed I figured there was nothing I could do.
So armed with the knowledge of our upcoming bundle of pinkness, we went home in shock and didn’t tell anyone. Anyone who knows me knows that I can not keep a secret but this was fun. Every time someone looked at me they would guess I was having a boy. No matter what old wives' tale they were employing they all came up with boy.