This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/soggy90 on 2023-07-15 22:33:24.

---

Happened today. My wife and I are expecting, and we elected to get a full panel of genetic testing done at 12 weeks. The results came in and there was a note from the office that the gender of the baby was included in these results and if we didn’t want to see them yet, do not open and the doctor will give us our results next time we came in for an appointment via envelope.

We were both super excited, and maybe that is the first FU. It was Thursday and we decided we wanted to do our own gender reveal with a cake on the weekend- we then will send out some gender reveal trinkets to our relatives and friends who are scattered all about the country.

We schemed all sorts of ways we could get the results- from rather involved ones like me creating a script that could read the result parsed from the PDF (am software guy) to just annoying ones like driving the hour to the office to get them to write it on a paper to rather sensible ones like having a trusted (but minimally invested) third party take the phone, look at the results, and write it down. We went with the latter. The foreshadowing is likely strong here, but that was the next FU.

Our neighbor is a sweet lady recently retired and happily obliged. She took the phone and little did we know it was many documents. Genetic results, disclosures, page after page of medical jargon. My wife could not help guide her in fear of seeing the results herself. After fifteen minutes she excitedly exclaimed “OH! I GOT IT! I KNOW WHAT IT IS! GO AWAY!” as she wrote it down secretly to put in an envelope.

This envelope went to a baker, with instructions to create out gender reveal cake for two.

Today we picked up that cake. My wife was visibly more nervous than I was, she kept stalling and wanting to position the phone camera a certain way, set out plates, clean the countertops before filming etc.

We finally get set for the big reveal. We cut the cake together. One cut. Can’t tell. Two cuts. Can’t tell. Get the server! We scoop out this large 7” cake slice and…

Well, what the hell is it? It’s just vanilla on the inside. This is all on film and wife and I are just silent, both staring up at this slice of cake that I have raised up in the air. The dog is behind the shot, also staring at this piece of cake in awe albeit for much different reasons. After abnormally long pause, I notice that the thin layer of frosting in the middle is… PINK!

It’s a girl! It’s a girl? I mean I think it’s a girl…

My wife’s face is priceless. She is so mad that the instructions she gave the baker (DYE the cake the color, the whole reason we went with just a plain vanilla base) were clearly ignored (the cake was also kind of smooshed and we paid 50$ but whatever).

Just to double check, we look at the paper that the neighbor had sealed (baker had given back to us). “ITS A FEMALE”. I chuckled that it was written that way as I would think BOY or GIRL- but good enough for me!

But hey. It’s a girl. Our baby girl. We kiss and hug and are thrilled… My little girls entire existence flashes before my eyes. I’m coaching softball. I’m cheering her on far too loudly at a debate team or math competition. I’m walking her down the aisle. But immediately after my wife starts ripping through her phone.

She wants more confirmation. I’m like, hey, you ok? She is ignoring me. Ripping through her phone. I am over her shoulder. Medical jargon. Medical jargon. And then a page-

Patient: First Name/Last Name. Sex: Female.

Baby Gender: MALE

In our neighbors haste, she saw the patients gender and misjudged. Call it a mothers intuition that my wife felt it was always a boy.

We created a short second video recording to right the official record, laughed at the absurdity of it all, and enjoyed our smooshed, mediocre, wrongly gendered cake.

It was the best cake I ever had.

TL;DR had our neighbor act as a minimally invested trusted third party to read the gender results of our baby. She misread them, the cake we had a baker create was wrong, and I celebrated the life of the daughter I do not have. Little bastard is already driving me crazy.