Ultrasound Subterfuge

Only two and a half months left to go and my husband still hasn't spilled the secret. As you may remember, Spike wanted to find out our baby's sex but I didn't so the technician wrote it in an envelope for his eyes alone. The card has been sitting propped on Spike's dresser for two months now.

My refusal to look inside the card may seem to be yet another one of Hollywood's random battles. After all, there really aren't any benefits to not knowing and a whole list of inconveniences it incurs. But there is a very important reason I can't look. It would mean he wins.

When I went in for the ultrasound in November I made it clear to the technician that I did not want to know the sex. He gave me a surprised look and asked why. I didn't know how to reply to his curiosity. Sensing my weak position, the tech spent the rest of the examination trying to convince me to find out. Why did it matter to this stranger? Was this really such a rare request? Fueled by a growing dislike for the man, I emphatically refused. At the end of the appointment he printed out two photos for me and asked if I wanted him to write the sex on the back of one of them. "No, write it inside this card," I replied and handed him a card and envelope I had prepared. I asked him to seal it as soon as he wrote his finding.

With a smirk, he scribbled something and stuffed the card inside the envelope. He held it out to me unsealed. I carefully took the envelope like it was a rattle snake and grimly licked it closed. Then I pocketed the two photos, shook his hand and was on my way. I was 20 feet down the hall when I pulled out the photos for a look. The first was easily identifiable as a little arm with five well-formed fingers. The second... now what was that? I looked at the strange little blob on the photo. Rotated it. Rotated it again and squinted. No, I had no idea what it was. I stopped and went back to the ultrasound technician who was cleaning up the examination room.

"Excuse me," I asked politely, "what is this photo of?"
"Oh, it's the sex," He replied casually and went back to straightening the room.

Indeed, it was. Suddenly I knew exactly what those little blobs were. I stood staring at him in shock. Had he purposefully foiled my meaningless little plan? Was it that important that I be denied this mother's request? As I said before, I had no real purpose for not knowing so I wasn't devastated by his betrayal but I still left the office in a funk. It was a boy. Definitely a boy.

Later that evening I told Spike the disappointing tale and gave him the envelope. He opened the card then looked at the incriminating nudie photo. With a laugh he assured me that he couldn't tell a thing from the photo. Was I wrong? I studied the photo again. Thirty seconds later I was positive that it was in fact a girl. A few days later I had some friends look at the photo and they were stumped.

Despite the tech's best efforts to foil my plan, I can safely say again that I don't know what I'm having. But at least now I have fuel for my senseless resolve. Let that slimy ultrasound tech win? Never. If I didn't have to, I wouldn't find out the sex until the darn kid hit puberty. I like keeping that card out where I can see it during the day. It reminds me that a senseless battle, well fought, can be just as satisfying as the meaningful ones. But only if you win.


____
Don't ask, I won't post the ultrasound photo. Some of you are too smart for your own good and would ruin it for me!

____
Okay, okay fine. I can't stop myself from appeasing the masses. Here it is. Are we really going to start a comment thread about these genitals? This kid is never going to forgive me...