It's a....

This year, P and I are expecting the arrival of our 4th child.  Though this child was the most "planned" of all of them, read: the only one we actually discussed before conception, it sure hit me by surprise.  I was not really ready to give up my "alone" time at the gym and not having a baby attached to my boob every hour and a half.  To be honest, it is still a bit difficult to accept.  Maybe accept is not the right word.  Let's go with "adjust to."

I went to my ultrasound today, with great anticipation.  I didn't want to find out what we are having because really, that's the only "surprise" when you have a c-section.  I already know that my child will be joining us on June 27 around 8:15 am.  When you have a section, its like you go and check into a hotel for 4 days.  When you leave, you just happen to go home with rock hard breasts, a very sore abdomen and a little ball of baby.  It takes me a while to actually realize that I even have a baby.  Maybe its because of the length of time it takes your body to catch up to the fact that you "gave birth" or maybe its a normal thing for women.  Not sure.

But, practicality took over.  Our girls need to get new beds, so the baby can have C's crib.  J insists that her toddler bed is too small, so she sneaks into L's double bed every night.  Then, there's the problem with storage.  We have an attic, full of baby boy clothes, and a girl's room full of girl clothes.  But, I have the "wrong" boy stuff and I gave all of my baby girl stuff (and most of my baby stuff) to my brother.  I'm pretty sure that once #4 arrives, my urge to organize and thin out our belongings will disappear.  It left no other option than to ask the ultrasound tech to reveal the sex.

As usual, my hubby was delayed and they began the scan without him.  Michelle, our tech, started looking at the feet, and several times, you could see the hind quarter view.  I knew then that there was no way this was what I had been hoping for, but I didn't say anything because she didn't actually go down there to look for the gender.  When P arrived, I told Michelle about L and J's fight in the car this morning.  L said that he was saving all of his clothes for his baby brother, then with their noses only an inch apart, and you can hear the bickering "girl" "boy" "girl" "boy".  I had to interrupt the kids and remind them that God has already determined whether a girl or boy would be joining our family.  L says, "Mom, I hope, I hope, I hope that God was listening to me".  It was so sweet, how deeply he has a want for a little brother.  Then, Michelle says, "well, let's take a look and see what this baby is"...it was a no go.  The baby would not cooperate.  We learned that #4 is a healthy child, that my placenta is NOT growing into my scar, as previously thought, and then, we did a 2nd check.  Bingo, bango! It was so apparent that we were looking at our little girl.

P and I just sat there, a bit disappointed, but relieved that our baby is healthy.  Then, the waterworks.  I can not believe it, but I cried.  I cried for my husband because he didn't get the son he wanted.  I cried for my son, that he didn't get brother and play mate that he so deeply desires.  I cried for myself, because I so fear having a 3rd daughter.  That's 4 periods in a house at 1 time, 3 proms, 3 potential teenage moms, 3 weddings, 3 attitudes, 3 girls that will want to be fashionable, and I am the worst woman to give fashion advice (I have no fashion sense) or do hair (I barely even blow dry my own) or help with makeup (I rarely wear any) or help with eyebrows (my friends, brothers, and mom do mine).  COME ON!  What is God thinking?!  But, then I cried for my daughter, for the guilt and the hopes that I and the rest of us had for her gender.  Doesn't that make me a bad mom?  I know it doesn't because I love her already, but I couldn't help but to think that it makes me less than an okay mother.

Then, came the scary part:  I had to tell my L that he was getting another little sister.  When I picked him up from preschool, I said, "L, do you want to see pictures of the baby?"  He was so excited!  But, as I pulled them out of my purse, J walked by and yelled, "IT'S A GIRL, L! IT'S A GIRL."  The next 20 minutes were full of tears.  "Mom, so many times the girls bother me.  I just don't want another baby to bother me."  "Mom, why didn't God listen to me?"  "I just can't handle another girl!"  "I'm never going to get to play with a boy"  "When it's J's birthday, I'm going to stay inside and have alone time so I don't have to be surrounded by girls"  It went on and on and on.  It wore me down, I must admit.  But then, the light at the end of the tunnel.  When we pulled into the driveway, C and J were asleep and L came up to me.  "Would you like to see pictures of the new baby now?" I asked him.  "Okay, mom"  We looked, he giggled and said how cute she is.  Then, he asked if he can have one of the pictures to keep in his room.  I was shocked, to say the least.  Then, my little man said the most amazing thing to me, "Mom, a baby is a baby. It doesn't matter what it is.  I'm lucky, cause I could've had nothing," and he leaned over and gave me a hug and kiss.  My eyes swelled with pride for having been a part of raising such an extraordinary little boy. My moment of bliss.

Besides that moment, I felt like poopy all day long.  My eyes are puffy, my head hurts, and I had little to no motivation to make dinner.  I had originally planned to try a chicken and pesto pasta soup that my girlfriend recommended a while ago.  Instead, I opted for a 5 minute meal: curried chicken and grape salad served on your choice of bread, tortilla or green salad and leftover Chinese food.
2 c. shredded cooked skinless chicken breast 
20 small seedless grapes, halved
1 carrot, coarsely grated
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1/2 onion, grated
1/4 c. plain fat-free Greek-style yogurt
1/4 c. reduced-fat Miracle Whip
1 tsp. curry powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. fresh ground black pepper 

The chicken salad went over like a fart in church.  C refused to eat it and promptly picked it off of her bread.  J and L complained and whined about it, but in the end, ate it wrapped in a whole wheat tortilla with cheese.  Why?  Because they wanted a piece of their Valentine's candy, and who can deny the pull of candy?!

Tomorrow...I think I'll start dinner early, so I don't run into this problem again!  and, perhaps I will begin my baby boy purging, so we can get ready for this little angel.