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In my diary is an appointment for a sex determination. The appointment has gone through a friend of a friend. "These people want someone they can trust," it says in my notes. I walk into the waiting room and call out the family name. A couple in their early thirties get up and walk in my direction. The woman is significantly smaller than the man. Both their faces look bedraggled as I shake their hands. 

Reserved, they take their seats on the two ready-made chairs in front of my desk. With their backs neatly straight and dressed as if they were about to have an important meeting, they wait for me to say something. Normally people cannot wait to start the conversation, they are eager to know what it will be and excited. "Well then let's have a look," I start a light-hearted conversation. "You are 15 weeks pregnant?" The woman nods. "You can lie down," I tell the woman. I point to the treatment table. Unnoticed, I have started using the u-shape, which I normally never use in this kind of conversation.

She lies ready, her belly bared. I press the transducer against her abdomen. White lines now become visible on the black screen. Quietly I name all the things I see. "Your baby is not lying very conveniently to see it properly. It's still playing a bit of hide-and-seek." They don't respond. I decide to name what I feel and ask: "Is there anything I should take into account. Are you happy with this pregnancy?" It remains silent for a long minute. I look at the woman and then she says, "I have Turner's syndrome. It occurs only in women. It means that in me one of the two X chromosomes is partly or completely missing. Women with Turner are almost always infertile." "So it is very special that she is pregnant," says the man. "We only come to the hospital for tests and check-ups. We are constantly surrounded by white coats. Enjoyment is not yet possible, I am actually just scared," the woman says. Her husband takes her hand. The woman swallows her tears.

"Look here the head, the belly, arms...legs. The baby moves very nimble through the womb," I say with a smile. I introduce them to their baby in 4D. Slowly, they calm down. "It's a beautiful baby," the man says. "Everything looks good," I say calmly. "I see no reason to panic right now." "Really?" she asks. "As far as I can see everything, yes. I see that your baby has two eyes but it's going to need glasses, of course I don't know," I try to loosen the mood. "Do you now want to know whether you are having a a daughter or a son?" They both nod. After a bit of spinning, it's clear. "You are having a daughter." They both burst into tears. "If only it keeps going well," sobs the woman. "The chances of miscarriage are high in this case." She looks at me. "Confidence is the only thing you can have," I say. "Take good care of yourself and trust in your girl."

At the door, the woman suddenly hugs me. "You are the first one we had a pleasant consultation with. Where it was allowed to be about our baby no and not directly about the medical." Six months later, I receive a birth card. In pen, it has additional text written loosely by hand: "All is well! We had and have faith in our baby girl."

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