They didn’t have to ask twice. When my daughter Elise told me that her husband David invited me to the ultrasound, I readily accepted. This was the one. The one when the sex of the baby could be discovered.
Elise has always said that she wanted David to have the big moment of announcing their baby’s gender after the birth.
“Everything else is about me,” she said. “The appointments, the conversations, the baby shower… all centered around me. This will be David’s time to shine.”
I thought of saying that she could stay home and just send David to the gender reveal party I was dreaming of hosting, but I didn’t.
“Now I’m going to let David decide if we find out the gender today,” Elise said.
“You’ve already said that you weren’t going to find out,” I said. “Why don’t we find out and not tell anyone? No one will ask.”
“Lauren will,” Elise said. “And she’ll know by the look on my face that I know. Then I’ll start laughing and spill the beans.”
I couldn’t argue. Elise knows her sister.
Elise gave the final decision to David, who wants to know the gender even more than I do, and he said that they’ll wait.
As their baby’s image filled the large screen, the technician told us to turn our heads. Oh, how I wanted to peek, but I didn’t.
When we were told to look, I stared as my grandchild slowly extended his (or her) arm in response to the pressure of the ultrasound wand. I watched her (or his) heart beat, mentally traced the spine, and smiled as Elise and David discussed whose nose was in the profile.
Two minutes after it was over, Lauren, who was 45 miles away, called.
She said I should have peeked. I really didn’t
Ronny can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.