Yesterday morning, I woke up after a mostly sleepless night full of coughing, sniffling, and more coughing. I wasn't feeling well, and felt like something might be up with my body, but I crawled out of bed and went to start my day. I was right about my gut feelings, and made my way out of the bathroom with that overwhelming, sinking feeling in my stomach. Huck was giving us a little scare, and I tried my best to stay calm. Luke left for work and I called my OBGYN, just to be safe, and they told me to make an appointment for an ultrasound to double check on things. I called my mom and she, thankfully, was able to leave work to come help watch Marleigh so that I could get checked out.
I was still feeling Huck moving around in my belly quite a bit, so I was pretty confident that everything was okay, but no pregnant woman ever wants to have a scare like that at 24 weeks - or ever, for that matter! Once I got into the ultrasound room, the tech did her job and checked everything out with the baby from head to toe, back to the head, and to the toes again. About five minutes into the ultrasound, she had asked me if we knew if the baby was a boy or a girl, which I answered, and she continued on.
It wasn't until about an hour later that she got a look of concern on her face. Again, something no pregnant woman wants to see. I asked her if everything was okay, and she told me that when she was going through her initial checks of the baby, she wasn't "100% confident that it's a boy." Cue minor panic.
I suddenly had about a hundred thoughts racing through my mind at once. What do you mean it might not be a boy? We saw the parts so clearly at 12 weeks, and again at our second ultrasound. What would Luke's grandma say? What about the adorable little boy clothes I've been picking out? Or his little face that I've been dreaming of?
The most prevalent thought I had: I already feel guilty about feeling less connected to this baby in comparison to how I felt when I was pregnant with Marleigh. And now the baby I've been making a conscious effort to know and bond with, my little boy, may not be a boy at all!?
I was trying to remain positive and think on the bright side. A healthy baby is all that matters. And then the baby moved "its" legs (because for a couple minutes, he became an it again) and I don't think I've ever been happier to see a penis in my life! ;)
So, in summary... Baby Gill #2 is still a Henry; he is measuring perfectly on schedule; he still has a precious little profile; and, most importantly, he is healthy! I'm hoping he takes it easy on me from here on out and doesn't give us anything else to worry about. I'll be cherishing the reassuring kicks and squirms as much as possible for the next 15 weeks!