The hydrangeas were pink...

And the ultrasound tech said, "Girl."  I had my 18-week anatomy scan this morning, and in addition to finding out that the baby looks healthy and continues to measure with a due date of January 11 (a few days earlier than by my count), we found out that we will be getting a daughter and Oliver a sister.  I've been so looking forward to this day, to knowing whether it's a "she" or a "he."  I really was hoping for a girl when I got pregnant with Oliver and had a few moments of disappointment when all my friends found out they were having girls.  But I got over it in about 2 seconds because, hey, what's not fun about boys.  And he is fun.  So fun.  And I could not imagine a girl now.  This time, I was truly and honestly going to be excited either way.  Wes, my sister, and I were all imagining Oliver with a little brother.  Wes and I were imagining all the fun we've had with Oliver, his delight in life and great energy.  I knew I wanted a girl at some point though, so if it was now, then great.  Wes and I both went into the ultrasound thinking -- for no particular reason -- that it was a girl (I'm 2-2 now, having accurately predicted both genders).

And my reaction was similar this time to last time.  The tech did the whole scan -- checking for parts and vessels and taking measurements and then looked for the gender.  Her comments at first -- "I think I already know" and "If it's a boy, it's usually easy to tell at this point" made me think it was indeed a boy.  And I had a smile on my face, imagining this new little boy.  And then she said, "But you were right.  It's a girl."  And the smile stayed.  As I walked with Wes to the parking lot, I was surprised to feel a little disappointment that it wasn't a boy.  I think I said it when I found out with Oliver, too -- it's not that I don't want it to be a girl, but that means it can't be a boy.  (And no, I don't wish I were having fraternal boys/girl twins!  I'll leave that to friends.)  Wes is worried he won't know what to do with a girl.  But truly, as long as he wipes from front to back, he need not do anything differently with a girl than he does with his boy.  And maybe she will have Oliver's zest for life and great energy and some things all her own.  And in the meantime, I get to buy girl clothes.

Happy Days

Sometimes when I think about my life, I wish I could store up the happiness of the good times to have saved for the harder times. This week is like that for me. My husband and I are bordering on a state of bliss. Though we've had by and large a very happy four years together, this pregnancy might encapsulate the best 9 months so far. We're both giggly and giddy and excited about the same things. A friend keeps warning me that most couples are less happy after they have kids, and while I don't doubt that might be true, I think Wes and I have an inkling of (though not a full appreciation for) what is to come after the pregnancy. And I think we'll love that part, too. Work is good. I have friends and family who are excited about our baby. And tomorrow, I turn 29 years old. Not the 25 I thought I would be when having my first, but then, who cares.

And in the midst of all this happiness and giddiness, we got to see our son. A big, healthy, wiggly boy laying in me breech with his legs wide open lest there be any confusion about his gender.

And at the midwife's office, more good news -- I'm still 7 lbs. under my starting weight. How's that for the icing on the birthday cake?