RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Dear Dylan,
Thank you for your most excellent idea for revealing the gender of the baby on live television. Whilst I can see how useful this would be in generating interest, we’re going to go in a different direction—reveal nothing in an attempt to add to the mystery and anticipation.
Best regards,
Prince Arthur
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EMAIL FROM DYLAN SINCLAIRto Prince Arthur, Princess Tessa
RE: RE: Gender Reveal Extravaganza
Brilliant! LOVE IT! Mystery + Anticipation = Media Frenzy
***
WE’RE SITTING IN THEwaiting room at the ultrasound clinic at my wife’s insistence. I could very easily have gotten an ultrasound machine brought into the palace and had a tech on call around the clock, but Tessa said no. Apparently, she’s taking this whole ‘raise a normal child’ thing to the next level now that it appears to be helping her gain some new fans around the kingdom.
When I suggested we opt for a much more convenient option than booking an appointment and waiting for our turn, she said, “Arthur, we must start as we mean to go on. If we take a privileged approach to the pregnancy, we certainly won’t stop after the baby comes, and pretty soon we’ll have a privileged brat on our hands.”
And since this is very likely the only appointment I’ll be able to attend, and my desire to keep her happy is much stronger than my need to save time, I now find myself squished between Tessa and an enormously pregnant woman in a waiting room filled with expectant mothers and their out-of-control toddlers. We’ve been here for almost an hour now, having spent the first twenty minutes being gawked at like zoo animals and asked for photos by women who want the goods on Tessa’s pregnancy.
Luckily, Xavier opted to join us in the waiting room and is not only pleasing to the female eye but is a wealth of pregnancy knowledge (I know, I can’t believe I’m glad he’s here either, but desperate times and all that...). He’s somehow managed to shift their focus away from Tessa and onto the topic of prenatal health and wellness. Not sure how he came by all this knowledge, but at the moment he’s talking about the top five ways to induce labour, and the ladies are absolutely riveted. I’d have never thought it possible that hearing the words ‘nipple’ and ‘massage’ in the same sentence would actually cause Excalibur to go into hiding, but somehow this conversation has managed it.
Some of the more experienced mums are taking turns sharing their birthing horror stories, and good Lord, they could give Margaret Atwood a run for her money when it comes to scaring the shit out of people. For some reason, these ladies seem to delight in terrifying the ‘almost mums’ under the guise of being helpful. But I’m onto them. They love the power trip of having been there, done that, got the baby to prove it. Female humans can be so much crueler than their male counterparts. Well, not really obviously, but in a surprisingly different way.
By the time it’s finally our turn, not only is Tessa’s face stuck in a horrified position that I hope isn’t permanent, but I’m pretty sure Excalibur will never recover from what we’ve just heard.
But never mind that, the important thing is that we’ll finally get a look at the baby so we can make sure he or she is healthy and on track. I never thought I’d find any of this so nerve-wracking, but it really and truly is. If I’m honest, I’m a little bit terrified that something’s wrong, even though logically I know there’s no cause for concern.
“It’ll be nice to have this over with, won’t it?” I ask Tessa.
“Very.”
“Then we can stop worrying and just enjoy parenthood,” I say with a firm nod.
The receptionist, who is leading us to the ultrasound room, snorts when I say that, then apologizes. What exactly was funny about that?
We’re led into a tiny, dark room, and Tessa’s told to undo her pants and lay down on the table. I sit on the stool and decide to take a look at the equipment. The screen is turned on. Hmm. Tempting.
Rolling the chair over to the ultrasound machine, I select the long, skinny wand, pick it up, and snicker. “Tessa, doesn’t this look a lot like a vibrator?”
The door swings open, spilling light in from the hallway. A middle-aged woman dressed in bright purple scrubs comes in. “Put that down. That’s an endocavity probe. It gets inserted in things like vaginas and anuses.”
I drop it immediately, causing it to fall to the floor as I go in search of a bottle of hand sanitizer.
The woman sighs and picks it up. “It’s not dirty...well, itwasn’tanyway. We wrap it before each use.”
“Excellent. Of course,” I say. “I’m Arthur.”
She stares at me for a second, and I’m waiting for her to do the whole ‘Oh, my God, it’s you!’ thing, but she doesn’t do it. She just sighs. “I’m Tonya, whose job wassomuch easier before they started allowing the husbands in the room.”
“Righto. Nice to meet you, Tonya,” I say, giving her my best princely smile. I can win her over, I’m sure.
She takes the stool, leaving me nowhere to sit as she starts to type into the computer and barks out, “Name.”
