All the Horrible Girliness

The ultrasound lady is sturdy, probably in her fifties, devoid of nonsense. She squirts hot gel on my belly. I try to be silly, but my jokes fall dead.

The kid starts out face-down. Let's just say he's shy with strangers. He plays hide-the-peen for awhile, but eventually spreads 'em and shows the package. He waits to do this until Mr. Aran is in the room.

Mr. Aran is able to make the ultrasound lady laugh.

The kid jumps around a lot. He has ticklish feet. Whenever we get a good view of his footprints, he jumps. All the foot pictures are blurry.

When he isn't in the position desired by ultrasound lady, she jabs me, hard, with the ultrasound stick thing, and wiggles. My aching bladder! I'm certain this will give the kid brain damage, but he does as ultrasound lady requires and turns over so we can get a good look at his heart. All the chambers, going bump bump, 138 bpm, everything chill.

The ribcage and skull are enormous in comparison to his spindly legs and arms. We see the brain. The line that separates the hemispheres. Mr. Aran says, "He has his mom's brain. His dad still has his." Ultrasound lady loves this. The picture blurs.

He's still picking his goddamned nose in front of the camera. He has to feel up his face every minute. "Is my skull still there? Oh god! Oh, there it is. Good."

At one point, he turns his back on us, raises one hand and waves.

posted by Samus @ 1:33 PM