Most parents get sweet ultrasound photos of a baby’s face, looking a bit alien and smudged, but still a face. Not us. Our ultrasound technician gave us a picture of our baby’s penis. Our 21-week-old gestating little baby is unmistakably a boy. The ultrasound technician even added an arrow, pointing to the penis, in case anyone doubts this surprisingly-clear photo. We stuck the photo on the refrigerator, where we place all ultrasound shots, but this time I buried it underneath the earlier ultrasound picture, the one that shows a more palatable shot of the little boy waving (in my opinion) or giving us the finger (in Ben’s opinion). Really, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this picture of a penis. But that’s only one of the many things I’m not sure of about motherhood.
We’re now taking name suggestions. Ben likes Everett Love, I like Henry Everett Love, and Sophie alternates between Lettuce Icecream Love and The Sparkly Part of a Rainbow Love.
Sophie is disappointed that the baby in my belly won’t be a girl. She asked me to please tell the doctor that she wants a girl. I’m not quite sure why she wants a girl, but I seem to have alleviated some of her concern by promising that we’ll let the boy’s hair grow long enough to be fun to brush, too.
Elaine's blog 
How fun, Elaine! Tell Sophie that I’d wanted a baby sister and got a baby brother but instantly fell in love and had tons of fun!
XOXOXO to all,
Aunt Marla
When I was pregnant with S, O would tell me every day that she hoped we were having a girl. Our response to her was that whether we had a girl or not was kind of like when you put a quarter in the gumball machine. You may really want a pink gumball but you get a blue one instead. You just never know what you’ll get. As for the picture, well, I am sure you’ll have some use for it much later down the road.
You didn’t have much hair until you were nearly Sophie’s present age. Your boy might be different or bald.
As to names, I tried out the initials of Henry Everett Love. I had a devil of a time with them.
I had a classmate named Bruce MacDougal, and he always thought that his parents had left him with initials that another friend called “excrable.”