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Team Not Green

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Team Not Green

"It's a girl!" I've heard that sentence two times in my life now... The first time was when I was about thirteen weeks pregnant with my soon to be two year old, Evie. I already had two precious boys at the time, whom were still babies themselves, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying for a little girl to complete our trio of babes. 

Because I was approaching advanced maternal age, my doctor convinced me to have the Harmony Prenatal Test, which measures a woman’s risk of carrying a baby with chromosomal conditions such as trisomies 21, 18 and 13. The blood work is based on DNA analysis, so gender is also identified through this test.

Results are typically ready after 7-10 business days, and you better believe I was checking my phone religiously beginning around day 5 (I was hopeful!). Around day 7 is when I decided to call my OB's office to see if the results were in yet. They weren't ready that day nor were they ready for another couple of weeks, as some mishap occurred at the lab delaying the results for what felt like an eternity. 

At that time, I could not comprehend how parents waited until birth to find out the sex of their baby. I was dying of anticipation! This baby's gender consumed my every waking thought.

Finally, about three weeks after the initial testing I received the call. I was checking out at Office Max when the nurse delivered the news, "It's a girl!" she exclaimed. 

I tried to contain my excitement since I was in public, but I couldn't stand it... I was ecstatic! I'm sure the nurse was thrilled too, as I no longer had a reason to call daily and question her on the whereabouts of my results. 

Fast forward to present day. I am pregnant with my fourth and final baby, and I now officially fall into the "geriatric pregnancy" category. Yes, this is a thing, and no, there are no memberships for all the "old" pregnant ladies that entitle us to sweet discounts at restaurants, movies, and travel. Such a let down!

Because of my newly obtained senior status, the Harmony Prenatal Test is no longer a suggestion by my OB, but standard operating procedure. 

The only difference heading into the lab this time around was that I did not want to know the gender of my baby. This is my last pregnancy (for real!). I already have both genders. I have evolved. I wanted to surprised on delivery day. 

Or so I thought.

After one fast week, the nurse called to share the results and as we were about to say goodbye, she felt the need to double-check one small thing... 

"And you don't want to know the gender, correct?"


Why, oh why, did she have to ask me that? I was feeling so strong and confident in my decision to remain "Team Green" throughout my pregnancy.

"Correct, I don't want to know," I managed to mutter. I was suddenly very flustered. "But I may call you back."

And with that, I hung up.

I was amped up at that point. Did I want to know or not? Could I wait? Don't I want to plan? And what about a name? It would be super helpful to know the gender so I can seriously brainstorm name choices.

Excuses flooded my thought process clouding my initial intent to keep the gender a secret. It took less than 24 hours for me to cave and call back.

"It's a girl!" she said with a chuckle, as my weakness was rather comical to the nurse and just about everyone else who knew my big plans to keep the sex under wraps. 

Believe it or not, I don't regret finding out the news and I have a whole new level of respect for those who go their entire pregnancy without knowing whether they are birthing a baby girl or a baby boy. Cheers to you, friends. Cheers. To. You. 

My husband and I had our boy name picked out already. Henry Joseph. Henry because it's a classic name that goes perfectly with Jack and William, the names of our eldest two children, and Joseph after my father-in-law. I am a little sad that we won't be able to use that name for a little boy, but I do think it's cute for a dog! So maybe we don't have to squash it just yet.

But a girls name that I loved? I was at a loss. I literally had nothing on my list. I racked my brain for days and sent an email to my husband with the following names to consider:

Amelia/Emilia (Millie/Emme)


Lucy Claire

Eloise (Elle)









Tess or Tessa








Even though I liked the names on my list, I didn't LOVE any of the names on my list. When naming my first daughter, I just knew. I heard the name Evie and there was no looking back. And we did good there, too. My daughter embodies the image of the spunky little firecracker that Evie Anne elicits. 

I reeled off the list to my husband when he walked through the door that night after a long day of work, because he apparently "receives hundreds of emails every day" and never seems to find mine in the chaos that is his inbox.

Keep in mind our three children were in full blown caged-animal mode at this moment too, so my husband processed about 10% of the words that were coming out of my mouth at best.

"Cora," he uttered flippantly. "I like that one."

I wasn't sold and I was out of ideas. It looked like we would be forced to settle on a name that we liked but didn't love. 

Not long after, my oldest son Jack had his first soccer game of the season. During the game, I heard the coach shouting at one of the girls on the team, "Get the ball, Bennett! Dribble down the field!"

And at that moment, I knew...

We had our name, y'all. 

We are looking forward to welcoming Bennett Lynne into the world September 2018. ❤️

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