Before getting home yesterday, I zoomed into the grocery store to stock up on Your Sister's mom snacks. The death snow looms. I chugged a caramel frappuccino for lunch and pulled into my carport right as Your Parents arrived. We had about half an hour to kill before we picked up Your Sister. I cut up her celery snacks and tucked away groceries while Your Mom vibrated in the house. She seems to be more wired in the last year. The anxiety of seeing a grandchild on ultrasound, and kibitzing over possible ailments, did nothing to settle her.
We scooped up my baby mama and began the check-up relatively quickly. Your Sister has put on two pounds in two weeks. Her blood pressure is fine (124/68). We were directed straight to the scanning room, and she was radar'ed within 15 minutes.
The baby is fine and appears to be a week ahead in physical development. The head, neck, belly, and femur measurements are good. We saw the heart chambers. We saw feet and fingers. And then we saw what the doctor defined as boy parts. He's confident we're brewing a lad. Your Sister wants to keep some girl names in reserve just in case, and I offer a "probably" disclaimer to be nice. But it's a boy. We're having a padawan. (Yes, there were female jedi, but we saw, what, two in six films?).
Your Mom voiced concerns about a number of wives' tales, and they were each shot down. The baby, for instance, is breech right now. The doctor assured her it has plenty of time to turn. It's the natural fit, after all. But what about the baby being born with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck? Happens daily, he said. Does the speed of the heartbeat confirm it's a boy? Nope. Sometimes I can't tell if she's genuinely nervous about something or buzzing with energy. Either way, all signs point so far to a healthy pregnancy. We go back in a month for the blood-sugar test.
Your Parents didn't want to loiter in Yokelsburg after the appointment, and Your Sis and I had a celebratory dinner at the pub. We spied a child's birthday party, and Your Sister grew ravenous for cake. We slipped into the now-emptied grocery store and bought a one-layer red velvet cake. We discussed parenting matters along the lines of when do we have The Talk? How do we handle curfews? You know, things we have a decade to gear up for.
I called My Mom and told her the news, and we called a few other people before I shouted it on the Book of Face.
He looks healthy. That's all that matters. I think Your Sister wanted a son. I hope she's as happy as I am. It looks like we'll be snowed in for a few days. I don't mind. A small period of stillness will let us contemplate further this project, and we can huddle together in our home.
Picture of the Day
The menstrual cycle in cute cartoon form. We won't be seeing this until summer.