The Sex Sonogram

One of the best things about my midwife is that she has her own sonogram machine. Yes, I know it is better that she is competent, caring, knowledgeable, compassionate, blah, blah but she comes complete with her own spy-on-baby-whenever-you-want-machine. BoNANza! Besides the sonograms are merely a bonus, the other stuff is required.


So, because I am nosey, I opted to spy on sweet bebe just about every appointment. Just to see growth and look at his little antics and acrobatics. Hubs and I opted to find out the sex before bebe was born. Don't get all judgemental on me. The whole "this is one of life's true surprises" is a valid argument but 1) I was still surprised at Week 20 and 2) I was surprised (shocked even) at his birth that I survived the entire ordeal. To each her own and I wanted to know. So lighten up, people. {Side note: I also don't understand people who find out but then don't tell anyone. That is just a power play to me. I worked with a guy in Germany who refused to tell anyone the sex beforehand even though he knew. Fine, fine. Your choice and I am not vested in a relationship with you. HOWEVER, he then had the nerve to snipe incessantly"we got all green and yellow stuff for our twin boys. And nothing is in duplicate." He did not even tell people they were having twins. Because normally I buy identical outfits for singletons. Moms love that. Whatever, dude.}


But back to the story. I am GEARED UP to find out the sex. Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait. For those of you who know me, no explanation is necessary. For those of you who don't, no explanation is possible. Suffice it to say, I am a little on the hyper and OCD side. I, seriously, did not sleep for three days prior to finding out the sex. I truly get that geared up. However, sleep has never been a huge priority to me so it is not the sacrifice that it seems.


But I digress again (sorry, my ADD is acting up tonight)... we are doing the "sex sonogram" (I, clearly, made that title up myself) and Laura (the midwife) says "That is either cord shadow or the biggest penis I have ever seen." Not words you want to hear when you are a crazy, hormonal preggo. This translates to me as "you are about to give birth to a porn star. A gay porn star." This is not okay. I am looking for a paper bag to breathe into.


So, torture of tortures, I had to wait another three weeks to find out. I know, I know, the universe was trying to teach me a lesson about patience. Blah, blah, blah.


During the three weeks, we start assuming it is a girl. That monstrosity HAD to be cord shadow. I am leery since there are 19 boys in Hub's family and only 3 girls but, hey, even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.


Three excruciatingly long weeks pass and we try again. Sweet bebe is, I kid you not, kicked back, hands behind his head, ankles crossed, SPORTING A TREMENDOUS WOODY {what 80s movie was that?}. All he needed was a baseball cap and the remote and he could be anyone I went to college with. Seriously, who knew fetuses could get erections?


Immediately, Hubby, his military buddies and the USAFA cadets we sponsor christened my sweet, innocent, unborn baby with the moniker "Wood." {And, yes, it has stuck.}


Hubby's military buddies swear "you have to be one cool baby to get your call sign in vitro."