Ultrasound

In a little less than two hours Jenn and I will be going in for an ultrasound. Yes, we have chosen to find out what gender the little being growing inside of her will be as well as--and more importantly--the health of the baby.

At 36, Jenn has just crossed the line into what traditional medicine would lable "older motherhood." The risk of being a slightly-past-her-prime young woman is, of course, that something could be "wrong" with our child, i.e. Down Syndrome.  We had a discussion about a month ago, prompted by a list of questions give to us by our midwife, Margy.  Jenn looked at me and asked, "How would you feel if your baby had Downs Syndrome?"

Very tempting to be politically correct in the face of such a question and say, "It doesn't matter. I'll love our baby no matter what." As a father-to-be and my wife's biggest source of support, I know I am suppose to maintain a positive attitude, think good thoughts, pray, visualize a healthy baby, welcome in the mystery of creation, have faith, etc, etc. But the thought of having a Downs kid or a child on the autistic spectrum made me tremble a little inside.

I searched my brain for the right words. "I ... I would be profoundly disappointed," I said at last.

Jenn nodded her head and smiled, as she often does when I speak from my heart.  She knew my words did not mean I would love our baby any less, but for her/his sake, it is my sincere hope that our baby is in perfect health and, as Garrison Keillor would say, above average.

(An hour and a half later) Speaking of "her" and "his," we have run into many, MANY prognosticians who fancied themselves soothsayers and offered us knowing a smile and a guarantee of the sex of the baby. Three months ago, Jenn and I were certain a girl was on the way. Her name came to me in the middle of the night after I woke-up from a deep sleep and heard a whisper inside my head from somewhere ethereal. "My name is Zinnia." Not Sue or Judy or Sara, mind you, but Zinnia. I wasn't even sure what a Zinnia was, and had to ask Jenn the next morning if it was a bush or a flower or what. The name seemed to fit, however, and we decided we were having a girl.

Then we decided to exert our dictatorial powers as parents-to-be and name her after my dearly departed (and sainted) Yiddish grandmother, Celia, whom I quote on a regular basis whether she actually said what I attirbuted to her or not. I quote her whenever it suits me, and usually start it off with, "Well, you know what my grandma used to say ..." One statement that she did actually make was when I was 16. I was at Grandma Cele's apartment in Milwaukee eating burgers form Solly's and watching a documentary about Ghandi on Public Television, My grandma looked at me and said with the expression of someone who had just taken a whiff of milk well passed its prime: "Oy! That Mahatma Ghandi, what a trouble maker he was. Oy, what a trouble maker!" How could we not name our daughter after someone who could say that in all seriousness? And after all, Celia was a nice name. The kid would get over it.

When I let my mother know that we might be naming her granddaughter after her mother, but that Zinnia was in the lead, she let her preference be known in her own  subtle-to-fault, circumvent way.

"I would really love it if you named your daughter Celia. Really love it. That would be so wonderful if you named her Celia. I would be soooo happy. If I had a vote--not that I do--but if I did, Celia would be my choice." (Note: If anyone can help me decipher what the message is here, please leave a comment.)

The easy money of late seems to be riding heavily on a child of the male persuasion, so say the soothsayers..  If it's a boy? Raymond is in the lead, but we would call him Ray (or Raymundo as Jenn just informed me). Ray like the sun, Rey like a king in Spanish. Raymond Jebediah Bender-Lukesh Humming Dolphin. I just hope the kid has a sense of humor.

I still think it's a girl. We are leaving in three minutes.