Emily Rose: A Pregnancy Story, Part 1: Conception

Conception

Dear Emily Rose,

I was never convinced our family was complete. Although caring for two children  was more than enough to manage, someone was missing, an essential person, someone we can’t live “happily ever after” without. Now I know that someone is you. So deciding to have a third child wasn’t a question of why but of when.

I won’t lie to you. I really wanted you to be a girl, so I went to the internet to see what I could come up with. Many websites mocked my audacity to believe that I could, through careful planning, “choose” your gender. I ignored their narrow-mindedness. I did eventually come across a website that had a helpful calendar. It highlighted three early days in my cycle where I would have a better chance of conceiving a girl. I’ve always heard, in science classes and otherwise, that male sperm are faster but female sperm survive longer. So this calendar didn’t seem bogus to me. At last, we had a plan!

Around mid-November, the moment seemed right, as right as it could be in the creepy house we lived in. Our prickly cold bedroom wasn’t exactly romantic thanks to the lime-green paint and the water stain on the wall that looked like a three-breasted woman. It was at least quiet and dark. For two busy parents, this was the best we could do in terms of ambiance. 

About a week and a half later, my lower abdomen seemed busier than usual. I didn’t exactly need to take a pregnancy test because I knew you were already there. I did, just in case, to rule out the possibility I was imagining things. 

Since I was testing before my period was expected, there was a decent chance for a false-negative result. Luckily there were two pregnancy tests in the box. The three minutes waiting for the outcome felt longer than ordinary minutes. I dismissed your father from the room (I wanted to know first) and started cleaning the bathroom to help pass the time. When that loaded word “pregnant” showed up, I went to your father and said, “I guess we’re not going to need that extra test after all!”

So, Emily Rose, it looks like you will never be a fall baby like I had planned. I apologize for that. Autumn in New England should be picture perfect, but let me assure you the dry heat of August is nice too. Until then, grow, eat all my food, and enjoy your time in utero while it lasts. I’ll see you on the other side. 

Love,

Your Mother