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  • Megan

I was that mom

Updated: Dec 6, 2020

I was the mom I never thought I’d be today. Sitting in the dentist’s chair, I had to disclose that I was very newly pregnant so that we could skip the standard x-rays you get with a checkup.

The hygienist, making small talk, asked me if I was hoping for a boy or a girl. I froze. Because in that moment, I wasn’t even sure we would make it to week 7, let alone to the point in time where we find out our growing baby’s sex.

And I honestly didn’t want to let my brain think about the future. Because if I think about the future, I get hopeful and excited. And if something happens again, if I lose this baby, too, I need to be prepared. I need to safeguard my heart. I need to keep it from shattering into as many pieces as it did last time. I need to keep this pregnancy and my want to see it through at arm’s length. I need to be prepared.

But how do you tell your hygienist all of that? When in reality, she didn’t ask for all of that. She is not owed all of that. No one is owed any of that. No one is owed the innerworkings of my heart and the fears that they hold so deeply that this baby’s future might be headed down the same path as our last.

“It would be easier if it were a girl, since we already have a daughter and wouldn’t need to buy as much,” I replied. “But honestly, we’re just hoping for healthy.”

And full-term. And real. And holdable. And… alive.

But I didn’t dare say any of that.

Of course, everyone wants a healthy baby. I don’t know of a single person that would wish for an unhealthy baby. But I always felt like moms who said that were just saying that to be polite and politically correct. Like they had a gender preference but wouldn’t dare share it because it wasn’t the right thing to prefer one sex over another for your child.

But honestly, I get it now more than I ever have before, I think.

I just want a healthy baby. I just want to see this pregnancy through to the end. I don’t care what parts the baby comes out with, so long as I get to snuggle and soothe them for the rest of my life. So long as I get to feel their tiny little fingers wrap around mine. Their grey-blue baby eyes staring deeply into my own.

I just want a healthy baby.

Moving forward, I will not be so quick to judge someone for answering the question in this way. Because for some moms, it’s the only thing we can cling to, as we urge our bodies to make it one more day, one more week, one more month.

I just want a healthy baby.


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