Last year while others were celebrating Cinco de Mayo, Drew and I were sitting in a doctor's office keeping our fingers crossed that our baby would expose him or herself to the ultrasound technician. After lots of poking and rolling me over from side to side (to side to side), we learned "IT'S A BOY". Or according to the way our ultrasound technician spelled it "It's a boyt!" I don't quite understand when you only have to spell certain words on screen - "feet", "hand", "head", "girl", "BOY" (I know I'm oversimplifying her job, but whatever), that you could mess them up. Our lady misspelled at least every third word she wrote that entire day.
Sorry Chase that I'm posting your business on the interweb, but this picture is all we had to go by for the 5 remaining months of my pregnancy. I was still convinced that our boy could be a girl and that the thing being pointed to could have been a toe or something.
One year later, I'm now staring at my child as he tears up my legal pad full of work notes and as he has squash spit-up stains all down the front of his pajamas. Couldn't imagine it any other way!
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