As promised in the last entry of Father@Forty, our family of four (for now) gathered at Missouri Baptist hospital this afternoon for the ultrasound that could start a name war or stop it dead in it’s tracks.  Even in the waiting room, we were haggling on girl names that started with an “A”.  Autumn, August, and Amidala (as in the Queen and Senator from Star Wars fame) were suggested among sneers and shaking heads.  None of us like one another’s suggestions and no one was budging.

So after we waited a little while, the ultrasound technician came to find my wife and we all, with a few butterflies in our stomachs, filed back into the ultrasound room.  I’d like to make fun of our daughters for being so antsy about finally getting an answer about what the sex of the child is, but I can’t.  My wife and I were probably just as bad if not worse!  We have a lot at stake here at our age.  We won’t, shy of miraculous intervention, be getting pregnant again after this child comes into the world.  My wife has assured me that I will be getting snipped.  (I’m still trying to figure out why she makes the “scissors” sign with her two fingers everytime she says “snipped.”  I know what that entails and I don’t need constant visual reminders about my fate.)  If this is our last chance, there’s a lot riding on what the technician was going to say.

The lights went dim in the room, the warmed up gel was squeezed onto the pregnant belly, and the ultrasound wand began to sway back and forth.  On the larger monitor they had hanging on the wall, we could see how the child within was progressing.  No longer the “pistachio” from previous ultrasounds… now a full-fledged child with a skull, face, spine, arms and legs wiggling about.  We saw the wonders of life with every pass of the wand, including a little bitty heart beating out a healthy pace.  The baby was pretty active, spinning around in its safe place like a break dancer from the eighties.  As interesting and as beautiful as it was… Dawn and I were looking at the monitor for other “wonders”.  Don’t get me wrong… spines and skulls, healthy kidneys, beating hearts, swinging arms and kicking legs are really super cool… but we’ve seen that before with previous pregnancies.  Our eyes were so focused looking for “something else” that we nearly burned a hole through the monitor.

Then I guess the hospital’s super ultrasound technician came into the room to assist.  She started taking shots of all the normal baby parts for the doctor to look at later as we sat patiently.  She asked us the simple question, “So, did you want to know the sex of the baby?”  Well duh, lady!  Look at us all!  We’re glued to the monitor here!  She swung the ultrasound wand to show the baby’s southern hemisphere and positioned it just right so that she could announce to our whole family that the child was most definately a…

The more I grow in the skill of writing, the more I understand about keeping an audience’s attention.  Like right now, you’re probably so frustrated with me using this dramatic pause that you’re about to think up some “A” names yourself that aren’t very flattering to an up-and-coming writer.  It’s okay really.  I think it’s my job to take you on a roller coaster ride with me from time to time.  It helps us grow a relationship and you’ll begin to trust me and…

Oh, heck with it! 

IT’S A BOY!!!!!

The super technician said that even though the non-fancy ultrasounds weren’t 100% accurate, if she was a betting girl… she was 95% sure it’s a boy.  She took two separate ultrasound photos of his junk, and I’m convinced.  I told his sisters to turn their head and give the poor little guy his privacy!    Stash is now Kenneth Ray Hoff III.  Ray.  Kenny.  Kenny Ray. Ray Ray.  Ken.  It’s all good.  Now to just get the little fella out into the world healthy and happy.

Just try and knock the smiles off our faces!