…I thought you were Christians…you shouldn’t have a preference, you should just want a healthy baby..!’ – The judgmental words uttered to me by someone, who presumed to inform me what I had the right to or not to feel about the gender of my unborn child.
As Mr G stepped up to defend me, I gently pushed him back, gave him a look that said I was fine and proceeded to explain to my aggressor that ‘..I don’t feel the least bit guilty having a preference. Baby Gray will be the flesh of my flesh, and is the fruit of my womb…’ (or something to that effect) ‘..I have no doubts that he OR she will be loved truly and deeply, regardless of what’s between their legs, and I pray that at some point I am blessed enough to have BOTH…I am thankful, ecstatically grateful to even be carrying this little one- BUT I have always wanted a ——- FIRST, and that’s that!’.
‘…How will you feel if you don’t get what you want… the poor child will definitely carry the rejection all through their life, whatever you do…’ **
Oh really??! – Yes, that’s right, I fully intend, as someone who WANTS this child, to actively heap as much rejection on them as possible, steadily throughout the day, and an extra dose just before the nightly bed-time story!
Now if the person expressing their unfounded apprehension, had sowed anything of worth into my life, or was someone who I really cared about, in all honestly, I still would not have cared. I make no apologies for my desires, and was happy that Mr G didn’t either.
They haven’t bought it up again since.
That hasn’t stopped other people, mainly strangers, for trying (and failing) to impede my stance, or trying to ‘save me from disappointment’ with guilt-ridden analogies, sometimes disguised as faux saccharin concern.
So here it is… from the first moment I laid on a bed, splayed like a spatchcocked chicken, whilst my lady bits were inspected by a complete stranger* (a position I am told I will be totally comfortable with in the next few months), I have had my own (mother’s) intuition, I knew what I wanted, and in the back of my head, I can’t explain it, but I just felt and believed I was going to get what I wanted.
Then, I was horribly sick during the first trimester. The unwanted, but official diagnosis of Hyperemesis Gravidarum, only cemented the somewhat self-righteous feeling that I deserved to get my hearts desire- after spending weeks either unable to eat, or with my head down the toilet. Why shouldn’t I have a —– when I could only stomach a few spoonfuls of plain, taste-free mash. I was mocked for predicting the gender from my first sonogram picture *** (but I felt it even then!) The night my body nearly broke with crippling dehydration? Surely I should be rewarded for my time on a drip at the hospital. Those horrid days when I was too weak to even clean my teeth- they meant I SHOULD be given what I want! No?
Nobody tells you just how debilitating HG can be, and although many wouldn’t have heard of the condition, until it was made known that Kate Middleton was a sufferer, I, from personal experience, can now testify that the 1 in 100 pregnant women in the UK who have the misfortune of having HG, would rather share her annual clothing budget, than her symptoms of extreme morning sickness!
I was bed bound, for the ENTIRE month of November! I slept through all the excitement of Christmas preparations. I slept in a warm comfy bed every lunch break at work during December (Hooray for the Guardian!) God bless my wonderful husband, family, friends and colleagues who helped me to get through one of the toughest moments of my life. Words cannot express the gratitude I have for my immediate family. Not a single negative word has been uttered by them, (though I would’ve deserved it) and their practical support has been overwhelming.
Yes, I moaned (a lot!), yes, the tube and food, and light (!!) became my enemies, and Yes!! One Direction songs still have me in floods, but the sickness is practically over, I have what I wanted and it’s the best Christmas/ New Years gift in the world… Oh..
(Even Baby Girl Gray did a mini fist pump)
It’s a girl!!!
*Okay, so it wasn’t a complete stranger, more of an ‘on-call’ Doctor
**What if the outcome had been different..? I hear some ask .. A: It wasn’t, so there’s not much point dwelling on it…
*** CORRECTLY predicting, I can now add!