This is it. The final preclude that will determine the gender of our unborn child (not your’s obviously. I would have informed you of that!). As I sit in the waiting room, my feet shuffling awkwardly failing to position themselves into effete parity, the knot in my stomach tightens. All around me are the docile murmurs of patients, the rhythmic tapping of nervous feet. Individual’s in similar circumstances to my own, refracting my cautious anxiety with their own tempered assuredness. The hesitant capitulation that latches onto my anxiety is expedited by the numb confusion that washes over me like the crest of a wave. Why am I so nervous? The immaculate sanitation indicated by the white sheened facades emblematic of hospitals always incites my nerves, but why would discovering the gender of my child provoke such fervour? Whatever the neurological reason nothing can prepare you for how passive and meek you become even when someone enquires into your name. I attempt to divert my attention by observing two babies settling a disagreement by glaring at one another, both either intently observant or preparing to rip the others throats out. Conversing with barely audible gurgles my typically gaming conditioned mind imagine that these infants inert squabbles would conclude in a Mortal Kombat style conflict. I even began whispering “Finish Him” to myself?! Hardly an affable representation of gaming influence on me, but at least I’d have someone soon that could share my eccentric predilections.
“This is what I thought those two infants would eventually end up doing!”
Oh right, the baby. My child. This is what this post is supposed to be about. Having watched the two potential Street Fighter baby participants become separated by their respective parents (spoil sports) it was time for my girlfriend and I to enter the scanning room, indicated by the wall mounted TV that would look much better adorning our living room wall. I walked into that ultrasound gingerly, exerting so much vestigial trepidation as if the scan will reveal a composite creature with mandibles and a snout, or an extraterrestrial nestling in my spouses womb. The translucent goo is then applied directly to the abdominal area, as the leaden images begin to form. You see the partialy formed heart beating with metrical flutter, beating with vigerous velocity that belies it’s organic vulnerability. All the distinguishable features are present; the hands, feet, torso, neck, the tail….wait no, not that! The transabdominal scan reveals rough contours of a surreptitious lifeform, yet it already feels real. I was however disapointed that the test doesn’t confirm any abnormalities or follicle deformities such as being ginger. Nor could we reasonably establish whether it has inherited my nasal deformity. Yet aside from measurements performed on the baby all we really wanted to know was the gender and we finally received confirmation. It’s…a…..Girl! We think?
During the scan the baby had positioned her body in a more modest riposte, as if she knew she was being observed?! “Do you mind?! Excuse me but I’m naked and swimming here.” Why my unborn daughter speaks like an Edwardian duke is still unknown but at least we are somewhat assured of what to name her (though I won’t be publishing such sensitive information just yet). My girlfriend, ever the bragger began texting relevant and arguably irrelevant parties to confirm the status of her labouring pregnancy. Her parents, brother, grandparents, cousin, hairdresser (honestly) random pedestrians, an owl (probably). In fairness it’s not difficult to see why. She’s as excited as I am. Well, actually more so. Though this is a happy occasion I have noted what an irritation my daughter is going to be. Besides dancing on my girlfriends bladder, her birth coincides with the start of Game Of Thrones season 6! It’s timely intervention could prevent me from completing Uncharted 4 and could also jeopardise my chances of attending next year’s EGX Rezzed?! I mean this infant has little courtesy for my needs! I’m starting to think that having child is going to be problematic?