Our Story: Ch. 9

Every expecting parent I know has recited the same tired cliche before they find out their baby's gender, "I don't care what it is as long as it's healthy and happy."
I even said it, and to some extent it's true. Everyone wants happy and healthy babies.
But I was also lying. I wanted a boy. I know there's a special bond between father and daughter - the daddy's little girl thing, but there are too many complications attached to having a girl.
The No. 1 issue, by far, is the whole dating thing. I know what I was like when I was a teenager. I know what goes through the minds of pubescent boys. I'm not saying I couldn't handle it, I would just prefer not to if at all possible.
It's not that I never want to have a girl, but having a boy first gives me peace of mind.
In addition to carrying on my family name, it creates the big brother dynamic. He could not only act as a protector but also be my first line of defense. He would be my eyes and ears on the ground and scout potential suitors.
Needless to say, I wanted my first-born to be a boy, but I didn't make a big deal about it. I wanted to keep an even keel, so the disappointment wouldn't be so bad if we did have a girl. I even remember telling Lindsey that I actually wanted a girl. It was a bold-faced lie, and I think she knew it.
Regardless, I had to go to those extremes because I wanted a boy so bad.
To make matters worse, we had to wait 20 weeks to find out the sex. This is the 21st century. It's absolutely ridiculous that people have to wait that long. It should be instantaneous, like pregnancy tests should not only tell you positive or negative, but also if it's an inny or outy. In the words of a recent Coke Zero commercial, "I'm looking at you scientists."
Regardless, we waited the 20 weeks. It almost killed me, but I was excited when the day finally arrived.
It didn't take long for us to go from waiting room to ultrasound room, but it seemed like it took forever for the technician to get all set up so we could see.
After lubing up her apparatus and poking around on my wife for a bit, she finally asked, "Are you ready?"
I know my eyes were as wide as saucers as I waited for the verdict.
"It's...a...boy!"
"Yes!" I yelled. I felt like I had just hit the game-winning shot to win the NBA championship. I even did the Jordan fist pump, like when he hit that shot against the Cavaliers.
I was beyond happy. In fact it was better than happiness. It was pride. I was so proud that my first-born was going to be a boy. Talk about stroking my ego.
Now we could prepare. I could paint the nursery. We can start buying clothes and toys. The euphoria of knowing we were having a boy quickly turned into focus and preparation. The next few months months were going to be busy and more challenging than we could have imagined.