oh...bot?
/
So.
Yesterday I went to get my third trimester ultrasound. My doctor said it's pretty routine for them to do a third trimester ultrasound...you know, to see how the baby's growing, positioned, etc. Plus she said I was looking a little on the small-ish side.
Hmph.
But I went happily, because hey, I wanted to see my baby.
So after the shirt was up and the jelly was rubbed and my innards were revealed and some head/heartbeat/leg/whatever else measurements were taken, ultrasound technician lady asks, conversationally,
"So, what are we having?"
I assume she knows it's a baby, since she can see it more clearly than I can, so I figure she's talking about the gender. My powers of deduction are amazing.
"Oh, it's a boy!"
"All right, let's check that out."
So she moves the little prober to that general area, and checks it out.
Brief pause.
(UTL=Ultrasound Technician Lady, K=Katie)
UTL: "It's a boy?"
K: "Um...yeah."
UTL: "Seriously, I told you it was a boy?"
K (out loud): (nervous laugh) "Yep!"
K (thinking): "Yes you told me it was a boy! I've been in here with you two other times and you told me it was a boy! You drew a little arrow on a picture! You used the word 'scrotum.' YOU DEFINITELY TOLD ME IT WAS A BOY. That is why I have boy-ish crib bedding. That's why everyone's been giving me boy clothes. That's why I've been stressing out over a BOY name. BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME IT WAS A BOY."
UTL: "Did I really? Did I write that down? Did we keep any of the pictures?"
She spins her stool around to look at my chart on the counter, and flips through some pictures trying to find the "proof." I lay there just watching helplessly, a "smile" frozen on my face.
UTL: "Well, there's the picture. I guess I did tell you it was a boy. Let's look again."
We spend the next few minutes trying to figure out if there is a protrusion that sticks far enough out between my baby's legs to be a boy part, or if the fact that it doesn't seem to stick out very far, plus the fact that we can see a faint line (although boys have those too), means that we're checking out a little miss.
In the end, UTL decides that she's sticking with boy. She says she's only been wrong twice in her 20 something year career. She also says that one of those times was about 3 months ago, so she's a little paranoid.
My mama bear mind interprets that as, "You got me just as I was losing my touch."
But she did say she still thinks it's a boy. And she sure seemed pretty dang sure when she cried "male" before. I'd say it would be pretty odd for this baby to not be a boy.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Over and over again.
Oh and also, my baby is plenty big enough, thank you very much. She's guessing he'll be 7 1/2 pounds-ish when he's born. I've also apparently been doing great with my water drinking (YES!) because there's a lot of "great water" in there. Oh, and the baby is settled pretty low in my tum, which is what's making me look/measure small-ish. This also means he might come a smidgen early.
Assuming, of course, that he is still a "he."
Heh heh heh heh....heh.
Yesterday I went to get my third trimester ultrasound. My doctor said it's pretty routine for them to do a third trimester ultrasound...you know, to see how the baby's growing, positioned, etc. Plus she said I was looking a little on the small-ish side.
Hmph.
But I went happily, because hey, I wanted to see my baby.
So after the shirt was up and the jelly was rubbed and my innards were revealed and some head/heartbeat/leg/whatever else measurements were taken, ultrasound technician lady asks, conversationally,
"So, what are we having?"
I assume she knows it's a baby, since she can see it more clearly than I can, so I figure she's talking about the gender. My powers of deduction are amazing.
"Oh, it's a boy!"
"All right, let's check that out."
So she moves the little prober to that general area, and checks it out.
Brief pause.
(UTL=Ultrasound Technician Lady, K=Katie)
UTL: "It's a boy?"
K: "Um...yeah."
UTL: "Seriously, I told you it was a boy?"
K (out loud): (nervous laugh) "Yep!"
K (thinking): "Yes you told me it was a boy! I've been in here with you two other times and you told me it was a boy! You drew a little arrow on a picture! You used the word 'scrotum.' YOU DEFINITELY TOLD ME IT WAS A BOY. That is why I have boy-ish crib bedding. That's why everyone's been giving me boy clothes. That's why I've been stressing out over a BOY name. BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME IT WAS A BOY."
UTL: "Did I really? Did I write that down? Did we keep any of the pictures?"
She spins her stool around to look at my chart on the counter, and flips through some pictures trying to find the "proof." I lay there just watching helplessly, a "smile" frozen on my face.
UTL: "Well, there's the picture. I guess I did tell you it was a boy. Let's look again."
We spend the next few minutes trying to figure out if there is a protrusion that sticks far enough out between my baby's legs to be a boy part, or if the fact that it doesn't seem to stick out very far, plus the fact that we can see a faint line (although boys have those too), means that we're checking out a little miss.
In the end, UTL decides that she's sticking with boy. She says she's only been wrong twice in her 20 something year career. She also says that one of those times was about 3 months ago, so she's a little paranoid.
My mama bear mind interprets that as, "You got me just as I was losing my touch."
But she did say she still thinks it's a boy. And she sure seemed pretty dang sure when she cried "male" before. I'd say it would be pretty odd for this baby to not be a boy.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Over and over again.
Oh and also, my baby is plenty big enough, thank you very much. She's guessing he'll be 7 1/2 pounds-ish when he's born. I've also apparently been doing great with my water drinking (YES!) because there's a lot of "great water" in there. Oh, and the baby is settled pretty low in my tum, which is what's making me look/measure small-ish. This also means he might come a smidgen early.
Assuming, of course, that he is still a "he."
Heh heh heh heh....heh.
