I have to apologize for the prolonged silence. I forgot that prolonged silence has a precedent set on this blog and that it isn’t a good one.
All is well.
All is wonderful.
The ultrasound was wonderful – well worth the anticipation.
For the longest time, before we were pregnant with the Bullet, I was convinced that I didn’t want to find out the gender this time around. I was worried that I’d be overly emotional if it were a girl and disappointed if it were a boy.
Then, we were pregnant with the Bullet, and I already knew it was a boy, so shoot, I might as well find out for sure so we could start planning.
But these days, it’s all about the surprise gender reveals. The colorful cakes. The box of balloons and confetti. I even have friends who went to the ultrasound with two pairs of shoes – a boy pair and a girl pair – and had the ultrasound tech put the proper gender shoes in a bag for them. Then they went out to the place they first met and videoed the opening of the bag.
The Bullet deserved some kind of epic gender reveal, it was determined.
So we didn’t find out the gender in the ultrasound. We wanted to find out with the rest of our friends and family, in true celebratory style.
The ultrasound tech of course had to turn the screen right off, because baby’s legs were WIDE OPEN. She did a great job not giving any clues or indications, despite some leading questions from me. “That looks like a masculine profile, right?” “Those are some awfully big muscles.” And so on and so forth.
All of baby’s parts are there, and baby is healthy and strong and right on track for growth. Baby is active and a bit of a peek-a-boo player, with hands up in the defensive position from time to time. We got a perfect profile picture, plus another one that looks like Ghostrider (and is eerily similar to one from Hudson’s first ultrasound), a whole handful of take-home gifts to show off later that night and tide us over until the big reveal the next day.
Our baby was conceived in a trailer park. The nickname is “The Bullet”. We announced our pregnancy with bottles of beer. So it was only fitting that we’d find out the gender with a shooting competition out at the Dub Family Farm.
That’s right. A shooting competition.