Scans, sex and superheroes By Kathryn Vukovljak

Scans, sex and superheroes

Kathryn is a journalist and sub-editor from the UK who married a Canberra boy and settled here. She’s worked for Woman’s Day, Slimming, Woman (UK), BBC Good Homes (UK) and the more local CityNews, and is expecting her first baby in April 2007.

My first ultrasound scan at 12 weeks pregnant had me feeling pretty excited. I particularly wanted to see the little reason I’d been feeling so rubbish for the past three months. And with a still-flat belly and no weight gain to speak of, I also wanted proof that I hadn’t dreamt up the whole thing. I’m sure my husband Dan also wanted to make sure my recent mood-swings, whingeing and extreme tiredness weren’t just signs of the new person I’d morphed into after only nine months of marriage.

We were also apprehensive, knowing the whole point of the scan was to look for problems. But initially I was just amazed to see it resembled a baby. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but I felt strangely reassured to see it had all the right bits – head, legs, arms. What I wasn’t expecting was for the whole experience to be so physically uncomfortable. But then, I might have had a bit too much water beforehand. Having been told by my doctor that I should drink 800ml or so to make the images clearer I swigged down almost three litres, just to be sure of a crystal-clear peek at my offspring.

“There’s your bladder!” said the sonographer, indicating a balloon-like growth below the baby. “It’s very full.”

No kidding. But more importantly, the bub was healthy and certainly looked happy. It performed back-flips, struck yoga poses, showed off a proud, strong heartbeat, stuck its legs in the air and waved at us (we were sure). Unfortunately the one image the sonographer caught for us was of bub in mid-wave, and with its hand paused in the middle of its face, it looked as though the child had an enormous witch-like hooked nose. But it was just waving. We hope.

Even with the nose issue, I proudly e-mailed the grainy photo to my mum in the UK, expecting an emotional reaction to seeing her first grandchild for the first time. She replied the next day: “Thanks, but it looks like a blur. I can't make anything out.”

The 20-week scan was all about the sex. And not nearly as much water. On my side, the family is happy for a boy or a girl, but Dan’s side are over-run with women. In fact he’s the last male born in his family. With three younger sisters who have three daughters between them, it was made clear by my father-in-law as soon as we announced the pregnancy that a boy would be very much appreciated. Especially from Dan, more so than his sisters, so the family name could finally be passed down a generation. So the pressure was on.

I definitely wanted to know the sex – I like to be prepared. But Dan wasn’t so sure. However as soon as we got in the room for the scan it was a different story.

“Do you want to know the –?” started the sonographer.

“Yes,” Dan said immediately. Oh well. Perhaps the anticipation had proved too much. And just then the bub pulled off an almighty bounce; arms and legs spreadeagled. Whatever its gender, it wanted us to know about it. Some clever camera trickery and zooming-in (sorry, son) later, involving a demonstration of blood flow from the placenta (“it’s definitely not the cord”) and a double-check of its spreadeagled pose (“it’s definitely not a hand”), and we had the result.

Of course ultrasounds aren’t just about finding out the sex and getting a cool keepsake photo. They have become a vital part of a pregnant woman’s pre-natal care and many hospitals don’t offer more than one or two unless the pregnancy needs specific monitoring.

Finding out the sex isn’t for everyone. My sister-in-law swears she only had enough strength to push out her two daughters because she was curious to know what they were. A lot of people I know just want it to be a surprise – to get the ultimate “It’s a…” moment in the delivery room. Also, ultrasounds are never infallible. But for us, knowing what we’re expecting made it all seem more real. And shopping for teeny blue clothes adorned with superheroes, trucks, planes, cars and robots has been great fun.

But let’s not forget the person it means the most to. I suspect my delighted father-in-law is already changing his will to leave everything to “The Boy”. I feel like I’m carrying the Messiah.

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