OMG. That's kind of mind-boggling.
As I mentioned before, we've decided to stick with my OB's plan of monitoring carefully and then evaluating our options once we hit 39 weeks. I am so impatient to hold this baby in my arms, but I also don't want to drag him or her out of me early if he or she appears to be thriving in there.
During my fluid check today, Deucers was totally sticking out his/her tongue and trying to suck on his/her hand, which was pretty much the most damned adorable thing EVER. (Even the nurse exclaimed at the cuteness and she sees babies all day every day, so we can only assume this means that the Deuce is extra-awesome and cuter than the usual fetus). Sure looked like a happy baby in there, passing the non-stress test with ease (here's plenty of accelerations in twenty minutes, piece of cake) and floating around in 15.75 cm of fluid.
And so we wait.
After unpacking and washing baby clothes a couple weeks ago, David and I decided that the Deuce needed a Coming Home outfit of his/her own. I had visions of a two-piece, yellow polka-dotted pj set, made out of that super soft bamboo fabric. So we headed to a local baby store to scope out their selection.
EVERYTHING was gendered. It was all pink or blue, or green-but-obviously-for-a-boy, or turquoise-but-obviously-for-a-girl and we could not agree on anything. I wanted a blue shirt with a dragon on it that was paired with white pants since it is the Year of the Dragon and we just went to this awesome Chinese lantern exhibit at the Botanical Garden and saw all kinds of amazing dragons. I argued it was gender neutral enough. I mean, girls can have white pants with blue flames on them, right?
But David said it was too boyish, and he kept looking at pink ruffled things (of course, he thinks the Deuce is a girl). They had some sweet items on sale for 40% off, but even I had to admit that there was nothing that would really suit either or a boy or a girl (and I know it doesn't matter, but dammit, I just want the outfit to be perfect!).
David asked me at one point if we'd be able to return sale items. I just shrugged. I didn't know, and I didn't really want to think about it. I was disappointed that my yellow polka dotted dream outfit was nonexistent.
We ended up leaving empty-handed, and decided to go to the mall later this week.
On my way home, I complaining to a friend about the utter lack of gender neutrality in baby clothes. She suggested that we buy one outfit for each gender and take both to the hospital.
What the WHAT?
(You're probably all nodding and thinking, yeah, Genius, why didn't you think about that a long time ago....? I mean, in retrospect it seems TOTALLY OBVIOUS).
I have no idea why this thought had NEVER OCCURRED to me. I like to think that the skills I honed in graduate school--critical thinking, creative problem solving, careful analysis--can serve me well in daily life, but as for a creative (or some might even say "obvious") solution to the problem of What Will The Deuce Wear Home?... I was totally at a loss.
So I exclaimed to David, "OMG! Sarah says we should just buy one boy outfit and one girl outfit! Then we can return or gift the other one! Why didn't we think of that?"
David said, "I did think of that. That's why I asked you if they'd take returns on sale items."
And that, my friends, is a communication FAIL. That's not what I understood him to mean AT ALL.
I said, "Oh. I thought you were asking that just in case this baby dies, too."
And then we both started laughing, NOT at the idea of the Deuce dying, but that kind of horrified and creeped out laugh at how f*cked up it is that my mind went directly to WORST CASE SCENARIO. I mean, who does that? Could I possibly have jumped to a worse conclusion? My mind is warped.
This is the less obvious but lingering damage of losing a child, I guess. To believe deep down that everything could be lost once more. And to believe this so emphatically that you assume that everyone else is thinking the same thing.
I'm wondering, of course, if the Deuce is a boy or a girl, but in reality, my energy is spent worrying about whether the Deuce will come home with us at all. (Just ask the nurse I had today, who patiently explained to me what the non-stress test results would look like if there were an issue with the umbilical cord.)
After all the fear, all the worry, all the grief, all the hope, I am still having a hard time believing that we're going to get a live baby at the end of all this.
Next time we'll come home from shopping with something pink and something blue.
And two-to-three weeks from today, we'd better come home from the hospital with a baby.