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Of all the chaos that is my life right now, Kerry and I did find some time to have a little fun with our growing boy.

We took him in for a 3D ultrasound, where it is possible to see a semi-blurry representation of your future child that isn’t just gray fuzz and whir in 2D.

We weren’t sure if we were going to do it or not, but then Grandpa-to-be stepped in with gusto.

When I first saw my baby boy, he was nothing more than a peanut, as I already posted earlier. Even then, he amazed me. His little heart beat away some 180 beats a minute or more, and back then we didn’t know if he was a he or a she.

The second scan came at the end of a rough first trimester. Kerry had been feeling just miserable and life wasn’t as good as it could be. Ironically, that’s when the mothers who had perfect pregnancies that were pain free come out. They report how beautiful they felt, how wonderful they felt and how they climbed Mt. Everest with ease while jogging 20 miles a day and lifting small commuter vehicles for weight resistance training all while managing a merger between two telecom businesses and making peace in the Middle East.

I kid, but no seriously… they did come out of the wood work.

The second scan sparked a small celebration between Kerry and I. We were so excited to know more about this young growing boy’s identity… mostly that he was a boy. While I am sure everyone in our families were excited about that news, they seems more muted than the original pregnancy news. So we sort of celebrated to ourselves by the time it was all said and done.

This particular viewing was non-medical in every way. We just wanted to show off our new boy and have some time to watch him. Most scans last less than 10 minutes and they don’t offer any three-dimensional interpretation for you.

This viewing was in the order of 30 minutes and we were able to see bits of his face.

This was all done to music. Well, muzac anyways. The acoustic guitar selection we finally picked was just thinly better than elevator music, but we weren’t there for a concert and it wasn’t like Jack Johnson was going to come and play for our baby’s ultrasound. (Note: Jack Johnson, if you should somehow read this, you are more than welcome to play for our baby.. or us.. we’ll tip and I make lasagna…)

A lot of the pictures made our baby look, frankly, demonic. But that’s because of the way the ultrasound technology works. If it can read halfway through momma’s stomach, then it can also read halfway through baby’s head. So, a few shots were more like hellspawn or something just because of the zoom factor. (won’t be sharing any of those… well.. not yet anyways.)

The boy had a thing with holding the tips of his toes (yes, all 10 are there) to his forehead with his hands. He could actually be seen trying to get a toe in his mouth at one point in time. Other anatomies like the umbilical chord and placenta got in the way as well.

All in all, it was a pretty amazing half hour. Dad and my sister, Melody, really seemed to enjoy the opportunity to meet the future family guy. Hmm… maybe we should name him Stewie? What the Deuce?