The Best-Laid Plans

Well, it's a funny bit of justice....

My step-dad wasn't able to attend the sonogram with me last Wednesday. He apparently had a pulled muscle that was acting like it might be some kidney trouble, so he bowed out. (Quite a clever excuse not to go, I think.)

But I asked the ultrasound tech to put the answer in an evelope. She said, "I can't write it down, but I can take a picture." (I thought she said she could label the picture, but apparently, I misunderstood her.) So I walked out with the picture in the envolope and thought I had a nice, tidy little birthday present for Chuck.

Come Friday, the next time I was in Zephyrhills, I gave Chuck the envelope and told him to go into the bedroom to look at it. He can have a poker face, but I just wanted to make sure. So he comes out of the bedroom and says, "Julie, it's just a picture." I said, "Well, isn't it labeled?" It wasn't and he's clueless when it comes to looking at sonogram pictures, so I gave him special dispensation. I told him he could show it to my mom and hope that she could figure it out. So she took it to the bathroom and cloistered herself for at least a good five minutes. No deal. She couldn't figure it out, either.

So they decided to take it down to Chuck's siters, Terry, who has many grandchildren and, presumably, more experience with decoding sonograms. Didn't work. She told them I'd be having a hurricane, because that's what it most resembled to her. I don't know what that means.

So I'm really torn now. I was convinced that it was a boy. I was fully convinced. But boy parts are relatively easy to identify, whereas girl parts are sneaky and unobtrusive. I've gone from being 98% sure it was a boy to about 60%.

I suppose it really doesn't matter. God figured that out for us nine months ago and we really can't be worried about it. But my nerves are absolutely not ready for a squeally 13th birthday party sleepover. But the good news is, that if it really is a girl, I'll have 13 years to prepare. And hopefully she'll be the kind that doesn't dig the squeally stuff. Or the drama. Or the haircare products. Or the designer clothing. Or the hunky football players. Only her daddy. Maybe she'll have good hormones. I'm really not ready to deal with a girl, come to think of it.

I have yet another OB appointment tomorrow. I'll try to keep my blog updated, but can't make any promises.