The official information...

... that I haven't gotten around to directly mentioning...



Yes, that's right, I am having a girl. Tentatively, at least. The doctor couldn't get the greatest view of her girly parts at the last visit (as it should be -- my daughter should be chaste and prudent), but he did say to me, "Do you see those three lines right there?" as he pointed to what looked like nothingness on the ultrasound screen. Apparently we were looking at baby vajayjay. We find out for sure next Wednesday at my next routine check-up, so either we'll be leaving on the 29th for our Vegas getaway feeling vindicated that we now know for sure it's a girl, or I'll be leaving horribly disappointed surprised that I'm having a boy.

ANYWAY... pending that it is indeed a girl we are having, A and I have chosen the name Sophia Elaine. We will call her Sophie for short. The name, however, like the gender, is also tentative. By "tentative" I mean he keeps coming up with names and I keep giving him exhausted and pained looks wishing he'd quit. She is not being named after anyone. I decided that after getting pressure from both sides, and knowing the horrible disappointment that would inevitably ensue regardless of what I chose, I just decided to give this little girl a chance to start life off as HERSELF and not in the expectations that come with being named after someone. If that makes sense in a hippie sort of way.

My due date switched around quite a bit in the beginning due to her small size. However, the original date I was given was too early, and the date I was later given would have placed conception in a time frame that was impossible (long story but I know we weren't having sex then). But the doctor finally settled on February 14, 2008 as the date of Sophie's Great Escape. Easy to remember, but I'm just hoping that if she IS born on time, she isn't set up for a lifetime of disappointing Valentine's Days by boyfriends that can't live up to the expectations of an already high-expectation romantic holiday PLUS a birthday. But if she's anything like her father or myself, she'll probably be late. I don't think A or myself is capable of being on time to anything.

So there's the important stuff I get asked about a lot. Stop asking. I'm getting hormonal and less patient about answering questions. Or having strangers touch my belly without asking. But that's a whole 'nother post.