This week, we had the Money Shot ultrasound. You know, the one where you get to see The Junk.
I'm not going to lie. I had some high expectations for this appointment. First, Andrew and I had placed a friendly wager on which sex the baby would end up being (I won, for the record). Second, this time we were promised something that looked less like a legume and more like ... something you'd put in a onesie.
(Let's be real for a moment, not even the VeggieTales had a legume. Legumes are hard to love.)
The ultrasound tech was really nice; she made sure that I was able to maintain some of my modesty, and in a moment that was *truly* worthy of an adult film, with no warning, she squirted me with warm ultrasound jelly.
"It's warm!" she exclaimed, very pleased that she didn't shock me with cold, unexpected ultrasound jelly.
I laughed my crazy nervous laugh, gave Andrew a sideways look and said, "Yes, yes it is."
So. Back to the magic.
She starts the ultrasound, and it was a lot like watching a post-modern French film. And you don't speak French because your mother told you that living in California, you'd use Spanish more. Ahem.
The tech was friendly, and was walking us through the ultrasound, pointing out things as if we could clearly discern them. Andrew, his usual helpful self, was making noises like he could actually interpret was was really just a Rorschach to me. I *might* have called him out on this. Perhaps in front of the tech.
At one point, there was clearly a foot and a leg, and I felt like a Rhodes scholar being able to point at it and I say, "I know what that is!" Truly, it's the small victories.
Towards the middle, she asks if we want to know the sex, to which we said, "Yes, please!"
She does a quick screen capture, types "girl", and there it is. Our SharkBean is a girl. Check her out:
"How can you tell?" I asked, because really and truly, I couldn't. So she shows us a shot which is the equivalent of SharkBean sitting on a photocopier, commando, at an office holiday party. Which I most certainly hope she does not do. EVER.
(For those of you who were hoping to see some cute baby butt cheeks, Andrew and I had a LONG discussion about invading SharkBean's privacy and posting pictures of her junk- or lack thereof- on the internet. I was rooting for y'all.)
What surprised me the most is how truly awesome ultrasounds are- SharkBean's little bones glowed on the GIANT monitor, showing us that they're all growing the way they should, and also, that she has a big head already (whimper) and the long Lockwood legs (woo!). We saw a healthy little heart, a developing brain, and eyes complete with lenses.
The pièce de résistance was towards the end of the ultrasound, where SharkBean was kicking away, and moving like crazy. Andrew looked at her hands and their movements, and I KID YOU NOT, said, "It looks like she's knitting."