Unwrapping a Girl

On Wednesday, Bridget and I found out we were having a baby girl. It was big news and we enjoyed sharing it.

How we found out, I think, is worth sharing, too.

Before I get to that, I want to talk about why we found out. The answer is pretty simple: Why not? I've had several conversations with people in the past few months about whether we should discover the gender of our bundle of joy before the big day. There are two very different schools of thought on this one.

• One group, the one that doesn't count me as a member, thinks all the magic should be saved for the big day. That moment, they say, that magical moment, when the doctor says, "It's a ..." is the second of a lifetime. 

• The other group, the one I support, likes to plan. We like two magical moments instead of just one. (Because, really, that day is going to be wonderful no matter what.) We like saying, "she" or "he" instead of "it" or "baby." We like buying pink or blue things instead of green or yellow ones. 

There was no question in our case. We wanted to find out. How we'd find out, though, was up for debate. After hearing our baby's heartbeat for the first time in a cold, sterile hospital room, we knew there had to be a better way. (An awkward "thumbs up" from across the room didn't seem like the way to celebrate one of the top 25 moments in our lives.)

Enter my friend, Molly.

Molly, a colleague, is a mother of three. We crossed paths in the kitchen one day and started talking about pregnancy. I mentioned we were going to find out the gender and she shared this wonderful idea: "We bring a card to the appointment and tell the ultrasound technician to write 'boy' or 'girl' on it. Then we go out to dinner that night and find out together -- just the two of us."

Wow. Mind blown. Simple. Brilliant. Perfect.

Bridget loved it, which brings us back to Wednesday. We headed into the appointment, let the ultrasound technician know about our plan, and then watched and waited. Our baby is, apparently, very active, so it took a while to get a clear look at the anatomy. But the technician got it, left the room, and came back with a sealed envelope.

When I heard Molly's great idea, I hadn't thought of the three hours I'd spend back at work with my child's gender on a card burning a whole in my coat pocket. It was brutal. But finally, mercifully, quitting time came and we headed to West Side Lounge in Cambridge. (There was no doubt where to go.) As soon as we sat down and ordered drinks, we took the envelope with shaking hands and tore it open. And there, under a picture of our future daughter, the handwriting was clear:
"Congratulations. It's a girl."

Dozens of visions -- the first smile, ribbons, the first "Daddy," the color pink, dance recitals, softball games, and college graduation -- rushed into my mind. Bridget and I held hands, laughed, smiled, and cried, taking our time to soak it all in. It was a beautiful, memorable moment -- and one that was much sweeter than it would have been in a hospital room.

How did you find out the gender of your baby? We'd love to hear.