No Matter What

What They Are

We went down the hallway and into the living room, where everyone else was already waiting with their coats and hats on. It was freezing out there today: twenty-five degrees and gloomy. I grabbed my coat, hat, magenta void, and went out to the backyard.

Connor and I positioned ourselves on the back patio while everyone else went on the grass, which was covered with a few inches of snow. Christy came out with the balloon and gave it to Connor because I wanted him to hold it. I'd seen too many "gender reveal fail" videos on TikTok of someone letting go of the balloon and was completely paranoid I'd be the one to ruin my own gender reveal. No thanks. Too much responsibility.

Connor smiled up at me as he held the big balloon in his hands. The string was full of pink and blue tassels. The white text on the shiny black balloon read "How we wonder what they are." Everyone started taking pictures while we stood there and posed.

"Okay, I think that's enough photos everyone! Let's get to the reveal before the wind picks up," said Aaron.

I put my arm around Connor, and he turned his head to look up at me. I shuddered. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. No more wondering. I was so happy and excited to find out whether they were boys or girls, but I was also really nervous. I felt like knowing what they are and having names picked out would only make us more attached. It would be so much harder if we lost them.

It was freezing, but Connor insisted we do the reveal outside. It made sense. His mom worked so hard to set up this party. I'm sure she didn't want to clean up a bunch of confetti on top of everything else.

Everyone had their phones out and started recording. Aaron handed me a huge kitchen knife that I'd use to pop the balloon. I looked out at both of our families who were shuddering in the cold as they took a video of us.

The whole entire football team was standing in the back, each one of them dressed in either a pink or blue jersey that they had layered over their winter coats. My dad, Annie, Dawson, and Connor's parents were in the front with his siblings.

Like Connor, his parents and siblings had blue star-shaped pins that said "team boys" on them. My dad and Dawson had the same. Poor Annie was the only one rooting for girls, but secretly, I think that was actually what she wanted for herself. I didn't know or want to guess, so I chose not to wear a pin.

"So for starters, thanks to everyone who came and brought us gifts!" Connor said. "It hasn't been an easy journey for us this past year, especially now with our two little ones being in such a high-risk situation. But Ayla is doing so, so well, at sixteen weeks—"

"Almost seventeen weeks now," I said.

"Seventeen weeks, which means she's getting closer and closer to the babies being viable on their own. I think the youngest surviving preemie was twenty-one weeks."

"It was. I looked it up," I said. "It was twenty-one-weeks and one day."

"So after a few more weeks, we can worry a little bit less. Our goal is to get to twenty-four weeks, and thankfully everything is looking okay so far."

"I think I'm just gonna pop the balloon now," I said.

There was laughing and clapping and cheering. One person whistled. I looked down at Connor.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yup," he said.

"Okay, then let's do this."

Everyone counted down: "Three...two...one!"

I aimed right for the center of the balloon, and it popped as soon as the knife hit it. The wind blew in the right direction just as that thing popped. The breeze caused not only Connor and I, but everyone else standing in the driveway to be showered with confetti. And that confetti was...

Blue!

I threw the knife into the snow, then Connor and I wrapped each other in a massive, squeezy hug. The both of us started hysterically crying. Everyone was cheering. I was going to get two little Connors. I couldn't imagine having two little ones who were exactly like him: strong, positive, kind-hearted, amazing.

It was a perfect, freezing-cold day. Our little miracle babies were two boys!