It's a Boy

"Gender Appears Male" That's the caption on two of the five ultrasound pictures we got to take home with us. Close-ups of the baby's package, with a little arrow pointing at the weiner and balls. (Two others were fabulously clear profiles.) I asked the technician what the accuracy rate of these determinations usually was. "In this case? 90%." Both Mr. b and I had gut feelings for the past couple of months that it was a boy. But you can't voice them or people will think you don't want a girl. That wasn't it. We both just *sensed* it.

I had no idea how much stuff they check out during the ultrasound. Technician had a whole list of images she needed to capture. They all get provided to the radiologist who then reads the pictures and provides the exam results to Doc in time for our visit next week. I'm certainly no expert but I counted two hands, two arms, two feet, two legs. Internal organs were on the inside. Facial features in the correct locations. Four ventricles in the heart. A spine. You know, the big stuff. There was nothing so obviously wrong that my untrained eye spotted it.

It was still kind of surreal. Sure I felt Tech moving the scanner thingie over my belly and I saw the images on the monitor hanging above us. But it was hard to connect the two and realize that what we were viewing was inside me. Mr. b teared up a couple times.

Child Person was squirming all over the place and Tech had to constantly readjust her angle to get the shots she needed. I could barely feel it. Which, considering how fiercely I have felt movement previously, means that damn, C.P. is going to end up as much a fidgety spazz as his father. It took Tech multiple tries to get a solid reading on the heartbeat. 150 beats per minute. Apparently there's a broad range for 2nd trimester babies. Also, apparently when we hear the heartbeat at the regular visits, it's actually the umbilical cord. The blood courses through it at the rate of C.P.'s heart, not mine.

Of course we went out for dinner after the appointment. And of course Mr. b brought the pictures in with us so he could keep looking at his son. (I just love Mr. b so much.) And of course we had a semi-constant stream of servers and managers stopping by to coo over the pictures and congratulate us.