Maggie's Got Balls

Maggie's Got Balls

Another True Story

Through all three of my (successful) pregnancies, I have been POSITIVE I knew the sex. The first time I KNEW I was having a boy before I was even certain I was pregnant. He turned out to, indeed, be a bouncing baby boy. Same thing with the second…just knew it was a boy. Right again.

Sooooo…..

When I became pregnant a third time, and everything felt differently from the prior two times, and I had a strong sense that this was a girl, I had every reason to think I was correct.

Right?

I decided to call her Maggie Katharine. Everything was Maggie this and when Maggie gets here that. I actually bought some pink things and received others as gifts. After all, my sister had two girls and then a boy. My second husband had two daughters by his first marriage. A girl was not outside the realm of possibility. And there was, after all, my thus-far unbroken streak of correct guesses.

Then near the end of the eighth month, my OB was concerned about the size of my belly (I'm a big ol' gal) and wanted an ultrasound to make sure the baby wasn't getting too big. I was soo very excited, as my new boyfriend hadn't seen one of these before, and he was already excited about the baby, even though it wasn't his. (A story for another day, one not quite so funny)

We happily watch images of a little face, little hands, little arms and legs cross the screen. All the while we're saying "she" and "her" and calling her Maggie. Then the tech gets to the…erm…business end of things, and turns to us and says, "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you might want to think of some boy names real quick. Cause Maggie has testicles."

I was in total denial at first--there must be some mistake! I had been SO SURE! Perhaps what he said were boy parts were actually girl parts. But alas, no.

I knew I would be happy later--after all, I had two boys I adored already. For the moment, though, I let myself be disappointed. That quickly turned to concern, as my older two had to have a corrective surgery on their willies when they were one year old. Would I have to go through that a third time?

Well, I informed the biodad that we needed to think of a boy name STAT. He was no help, so I named the boy after my new boyfriend to honor the man who would be helping me to raise him. My youngest wears my bf's middle name and my middle name. I like to tease my boys because all of them had girl names waiting to go just in case, of course none quite like Scott's Maggie.

And as a final note on that story--we didn't have a third surgery to go through, after all. My best friend was in the delivery room with us, and when they laid the baby on my chest for the first time, he weed all over her shirt, showing us right away that his willie was just fine.