It's a healthy baby.
It's one with ten toes and ten fingers and a four-chambered heart (thump your chest 135 times per minute to simulate) and long, straight femurs and Wombat's same adorable newborn overbite, and even a chatty little mouth going moom-moom-moom as it "practices sucking and swallowing" (a.k.a. as it breathes amniotic fluid, which is largely the baby's own urine plus some discarded skin cells for flavor, because even the greatest among us has humble beginnings).
Cute little critter, though, nasty drinking habits and all.
Wombat was with us for the ultrasound (which left me with a bruised bellybutton, wtf?), but we had the tech talk around the subject of the sex so we could surprise him later on--surprise him with the news that we're still processing, and probably will be for a good while.
(Thanks for your patience. Grandparent calling and doll gifting and video uploading and workingworkingworking and HOLY SHIT IT'S A BOY PEEN EVERYWHEREing kind of got in the way of posting yesterday. More to come later, because OBVIOUSLY.)