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Friday, March 16, 2012

Boy, oh boy, it's a boy!

Son & Heir
And a right troublemaker he is too. Not only has he got hold of some bubblegum in the womb, but he took two hours to show us his privates. Not even Lisa's that coy.

If you look in the top right of the photo above, you'll see that it was taken at 2:03pm. At 3:36pm we were still at it...

That's My Boy
That's my son and heir turning his head to stare directly into the camera. There's a definite look of Skeletor about that face. Which is ironic, as his Dad looks more like He-Man.

It's a well known fact that Lisa and I are at least ten minutes late for everything, so it's a measure of how desperate Lisa was to sex her child that we were booked in at the hospital and sitting in the waiting room at 1:42pm yesterday. We were so early, I felt giddy. They called us in ahead of time too, so my prediction of us knowing our baby's gender by 2pm was looking pretty accurate.

Unfortunately, that's where it all went wrong. At the 12-week scan in January, I mentioned that our baby was lounging around on its front like a beached penguin, and frankly he hasn't moved since. As the sonographer said to us two hours later, "He clearly likes this position". To which Lisa responded "He's just like his Dad".

There are various checks and measurements they have to perform, and at the first attempt they could only complete a few. Despite prodding Lisa aggressively in the stomach (which was something I told them I was happy to help with), they couldn't get the baby to move, so after twenty minutes of ultrasound, they told us to get out. And walk around for a while. We were instructed to do a few circuits of the hospital and come back in 15 or 20 minutes.

Clearly there was no need for me to leave the comfy chairs, but in an act of selfless moral support, I agreed to accompany Lisa around the hospital. Mainly because I knew she'd never find her way back. And was likely to fall over a sick person. So we both set off for a tour of Brighton's healthcare services. And ended up at Forfars, buying Eccles Cakes.

Twenty minutes later we were back, and Lisa was jumping around the waiting room like Big Daddy on a trampoline. I helped by chanting "Easy! Easy!" like a 1980s wrestling fan, which I'm not sure went down very well.

Sadly, it wasn't quite as easy as I thought. The second scan was no better. They managed to get a couple more measurements, but it was a sexless marriage between sonographer and baby, so they said they'd give us one more chance, and if the baby didn't move, they'd have to rebook us for another scan next week.

So off we went for another walk, this time heading around Brighton College, where I offered to punch Lisa in the stomach behind the bike sheds. To my surprise, she agreed. That woman was desperate to know the sex of her baby. In the end though, I felt it would look bad if our child went back with a broken arm. We're already sending Amelie to nursery covered in cat scratches, so it's not going to take much for social services to step in.

So I rejected violence in favour of some firm jiggling. Which attracted some odd looks from passers-by. Twenty minutes later, we were back in the ultrasound room, and this time our luck was in. The baby was still on his front, but had rolled fractionally, and was too lazy to keep its legs together. They announced that it was a boy, but still needed one more measurement. In the end, the sonographer called in one of her colleagues for a second opinion, and they decided that despite not being able to accurately measure his stomach, it would be stupid to bring us back for another scan. I told them he's a Gardner, so just put it down as 'large', and we left it at that.

By this time, it was almost 4 o'clock, so Lisa headed home, while I popped back into work to show off the baby photos do an hour's hard graft. By the time I'd picked up Amelie from nursery and returned home, Lisa had been through the entire book of baby names, and made a short list of about twenty. Ten of which I crossed out immediately. Gaylord might be in the book, but that doesn't make it a valid choice.


Phil's Mum said...

You were up early this morning.  It must have been all the excitement of yesterday.  Are you going to run a competition to choose the best boy's name?

Zed said...

Please assure Lisa that she need feel under no obligation to show us her privates, however long we're in her company.

Competition!  Yes please!

Poirot said...

When I saw the 2nd photo I thought you had already called him 'Probe 3 curvy' which I was thnking was very 21st century.