a man baby yeah! (Do Austin Powers references ever lose their charm? Answer: Yes, yes they do.)
Anyway, we met with the ultrasound tech and her first question after glancing over our chart was, "why did the doctor order another ultrasound?" My mind drew a blank and an "umm" slipped out of my mouth. If I gave the wrong answer would she shoo us away from the sonogram machine because it was obvious that we weren't deserving? We were so close, I could smell the warm aqua jelly stuff! If my life was a movie, this would be the part where I would completely overreact to the situation, grab the ultrasound machine and run out of the room. The entire OBGYN staff would be chasing me down the corridors as I hilariously tried to apply the jelly to my belly and do the ultrasound myself. Oh the hijinks that would ensue! Also, I would probably be dressed in a paper gown for this part of the movie, regardless of the fact that wearing a paper gown is not necessary during any ultrasound in the history of the world.
But my life is not a movie and I had to think up a good excuse. Thinking back to the words of the previous doctor, I retorted with the halfway plausible, "as I recall, the doctor mentioned the baby was measuring kind of weird."
"Measuring big or measuring small?" she questioned further.
"I am caught," I thought. It's not like I wouldn't know the answer to this question if the doctor had truthfully told me the baby was not measuring to normal size. Because I ate my weight in sweets while visiting my family for Christmas, I was feeling fat. I settled on my answer, "the baby was measuring big."
"That's strange, because according to your chart you measured right to size at your last appointment," she concluded.
"Yes, that's because I am a big liarhead with pants that are on fire," I thought to myself.
Dave piped up from the corner of the room, "I think the doctor was feeling generous at our last appointment." I sucked in all of the remaining air in the room, half expecting her to order us far far away from the ultrasound machine. Actually, she didn't appear to care very much at that point and left it to the doctor to make up a code for our insurance.
The whole experience was rather anticlimactic to be honest. Apparently, I had built up finding out the gender for exactly 26 weeks and 2 days and I thought I would hear drum rolls and perhaps some muted applause when she announced our news. In reality, she rolled the probe around my belly a few times and then deadpanned, "there's the scrotum" yawn. Okay, she didn't yawn and she really was nice enough. I suppose when you've seen hundreds of scrotums, you've seen them all you know?
At any rate, we're having a boy, we're having a boy!