My 20 week scan!

When I was younger I imagined whether I'd have children.  I once fantasised that it would be great to dress a little one in trainers, jeans and play football in the park. OK, so it's not every mother's dream, but I've always been a bit of a tomboy.  A quality that my hub quite likes about me.

"Today's the day we find out whether it's a boy or a girl don't we?" My husband asks as we walk into 'Scan room 1' for our 20-week scan (otherwise known as the anomaly scan). Bless him. The Sonographer explains that they need to check whether the baby was growing as it should be, and then they will be able to tell us the gender.

The day couldn't have come any slooooower, as I had been SO wanting to see the baby again to make sure that he/she was OK.

The last couple of months have been topsy turvey, what with work stresses, long and freeeeezing commutes, Christmas and struggling to cope with various other aspects that have affected my personal life. It's not been a bundle of laughs. So, of course, I was anxious to find out that my lovely baby was still growing as he/she should be.

A 2.50pm appointment is not the best of timing. I file my nails, polish my silver bracelet, pack a bag to go to my mum's (a pre-planned break

starting the following day), slather on a collagen-boosting face mask, eat, clean the bathroom, eat some more, and drink the required two pints of water. My hub and I arrive at the hospital an hour early.
We anxiously sit in the waiting room amongst a huddle of other bumps of different sizes (some HUUUUGE), and I hold my elasticated waistband away from pressing against my bladder. Ouch. In. Need. Of. A. Pee. Badly.We're called in by the Sonographer at 3.17pm.

Seeing our baby's heart beating again is a memory I'll never forget. A wave of happiness and hope wash over me. I lay on the couch and smile with love at my hub as he holds my hand. Watching the Sonographer capture snapshots from inside my stomach and looking back at the screen still amazes me. My mum never got the opportunity to have scans throughout her pregnancy back in the day. So, the technology of today is a great one!

"Is everything okay?" I ask, as the female Sonographer quietly takes measurements. I can't even remember her reply, but I'm reassured that she's concentrating on checking the baby.

My hub and I see every part of our wriggling bundle on the screen, from each of the toes... to soft tissue on the brain. And of course... something else...

... we find out the sex of our baby.

"It's not 100%, but I'd be VERY surprised if this is a girl," the Sonographer points her mouse at a lump in between our baby's legs. "It's a boy!"

Shock. Over-whelming joy. Happiness. More shock. Love. Joy. More shock.

"I told you!" My hub unbelievably retorts in delight. Erm... yeah, you also said it was a girl a few times too Mr.

Not only is our baby 'normal', but 'it' is now a 'he'. Wow. It's all starting to be so real. I'm HAVING a baby... and it's a boy.

Get me to the trainers, jeans and footballs...

Good toes: So proactive I make the bed twice.
Bad toes: A congratulatory meal of chicken and ham pie, mushy peas, chips and gravy. Followed by berry cobbler with cream.