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The Pregnancy Moment That Changed My Life Forever

We didn't have a big party to tell everyone the sex of our baby. We didn't release balloons or cut a cake or play with blue or pink paint. For the weeks leading up to our anatomy scan, I wasn't sure how I wanted to find out the baby's sex, I just knew I wanted to find out alone with my husband.

Finally, a week before our scan, I sat my husband down and gave him a choice: Did he want to be the one to find out first or did he want me to tell him? Or should we do the ONE, TWO, THREE! thing and find out together? He decided that he wanted to be the one who told me. So I gave him that. This man has sat back as I found out every pregnancy test result first for the last six years. I wanted him to have this honor. We decided that the day of the scan, if all was healthy with baby, he would take the envelope to a nearby boutique, open it, and pick out the outfit that our baby would come home from the hospital in. He would then take this wrapped gift home and have me open it.

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It's been over a week since that day. My heart still flutters when I think back to sitting on the bed, the box in front of me, about to be opened to change my life forever. And it may sound cliché and overly dramatic, but to me opening that box signified a new chapter of our journey through infertility. No longer was I crying into my pillow at night, praying for a baby that never seemed to stick around. I now had a baby inside me who is nothing short of a miracle, but even that was going to change. Opening the box meant I would become a mom to a son or a daughter. My husband was about to have his little girl or his little boy. So maybe I appeared to put a lot of stock in this one box, but when the years started chipping away at the hope that I would ever get to experience that moment, this box signified so much more than just finding out the sex.

With my heart thumping, I tore the paper off while my husband sat next to me, smiling. I sat there for a second staring at the white box, before opening the cover and immediately tearing back the white tissue paper.

So maybe I appeared to put a lot of stock in this one box, but when the years started chipping away at the hope that I would ever get to experience that moment, this box signified so much more than just finding out the sex.

I shrieked. And then the tears came. My body wracked with sobs as I threw my arms around my husband and cried. Because you see, it's one thing to know that in four months I am going to give birth to a baby I have waited years for. It's another thing entirely to know that at the end of it all, I will be staring into the eyes of my daughter.

My little girl. Even as I type this, the tears are falling. I had a feeling, a gut instinct from the moment I left the six week ultrasound appointment that she was a girl. Even right up until the scan when I started laughing to my husband that it was probably a boy, that instinct stayed around. My body may have failed me at creating babies, but there is just something so comforting knowing that my mother's intuition was correct the whole time.

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I'm not thinking too far into the future. I'm not thinking about the sports, if any, she'll play. I'm not thinking about what kind of student she will be. Right now, it's enough to feel the kicks from inside me, to walk through the girl's section at the stores, and dream of the baby girl we have.

Our daughter. It's unreal.

Image via Twenty20/mattpbrock

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