24 weeks, 4 days/ 22 weeks, 2 days*

The excitement of yesterday’s scan was sullied slightly by the behaviour of a certain family member. 

A certain family member who had agreed to be at our house to pick up a set of keys in time for the husband to get to the scan.  A certain family member who had agreed to pick up the boy from school so the husband could attend the scan with me and take the boy home, thus necessitating the retrieval of said keys.  A certain family member who, knowing our appointment was at 14:30, still hadn’t turned up at 14:25 when I called the husband to ask where the hell he was. 

So I went in for the scan alone.  At almost 14:40.  I stalled, because you know a pregnant woman needs to use the toilet 16 times an hour, but he still wasn’t at the end of that hallway.  There was nothing more I could do. 

By the time the husband was ushered in to our room, the sonographer had checked out pretty much everything and confirmed that there were no abnormalities that could be seen.  She’d commented that Lumpy seems to have inherited my runt-like body and freakishly long legs and already has a bit of a paunch.  She’d also been able to tell me what Lumpy is.  Well, lets face it, when we got to the money shot there was no doubt about it. 

But it wasn’t like I was going to tell the husband.  His mother had seriously pissed me off, and by extension, so had he. 

Despite having checked out everything already, the sonographer was kind enough to go over most of the bits again so the husband could see.  She asked about the boy’s birth weight and told us that it was most likely that Lumpy would be much bigger.  Just what I want to know before I start trying to push this kid out.  She also tried again to get a good face view, but Lumpy seems to be rather like me in that respect: one hand kept firmly in front of the face at all times.  Still, I’ve seen fingers spread out to wave and toes, so I was happy.

The husband wasn’t though, because even as we waited for my notes to be handed back, I still refused to tell him what the sex was.  He thought he’d seen, but I refused to confirm either way and I’d asked to sonographer not to tell either.  What can I say, a woman scorned…

Lucky for him though, I eventually gave in and told him.  But not before first extracting the promise that he would not, under any circumstances, tell him mother unless I gave him the go ahead.  Regardless of her actions that day, she still needs a lesson in patience. 

I called as we left the hospital.  The mother in law’s first words were ‘so what is it?’.  No question of whether Lumpy was healthy.  As Maternal Tales from the South Coast said earlier this week, the 20 week scan is an anomaly scan, not just a scan for the purpose of finding out the baby’s sex.  It’s the scan where That one pissed me off just as much as her lateness that day.  What if there had been something wrong?  Her only concern was whether her next grandchild was a boy or a girl.  When you consider how long the list of checks that a sonographer performs is, and how many abnormalities can potentially be found, what the sex of the baby is, should be the last question that is asked. 

I told the m0ther in law that they were unable to see properly, that the baby didn’t co-operate.  The scream that issued forth nearly deafened me.  Hell, it nearly deafened the husband and he was sitting on the other side of the car. 

She never even asked if the baby was ok.

Later that afternoon she asked when we had another scan to check what the sex was.  It seems like it’s been her only concern.  I told her we weren’t having another, that we’d already had as many as the NHS would give.  Hell, I’ve had four scans already – that’s twice as many as most women get. 

It’s not that I’m not going to tell her, but that aside from the lesson in patience she requires, I’m waiting until I’m less pissed at her, and until she actually bothers to ask if the baby’s ok.  Just because we didn’t say they found something wrong, doesn’t mean there isn’t. 

Of course it puts it all in perspective when the partner you’re working for that week shows more concern about the health of your baby than its own grandmother.

/rant

You’ll notice that I’ve not told you what Lumpy is either.  That’s perfectly intentional; we’re going to have a game.  Leave your guesses as to the sex in the comments, and we’ll see which proportion of you get it right.  Urbanvox isn’t allowed to play so there’s no spoiling my fun – I’ve got him to join in on his blog too.

Then Urbanvox had to go one better.  He’s got prizes if you join in the fun (although only for local peeps – sorry if you’re miles away).  I’ll make sure all your comments get counted, and although he says within 10 miles of London for a prize, I’ll make him go out further than that if I can.