My godson, Noah, is the sweetest kid in the world. He has already picked out names for our baby.
He told me a couple of months ago that if the baby is a girl, she should be named Gwen. I said, "That's a nice name. We'll have to keep that in mind." "And", he said, completely serious, "if the baby is a boy, he should be named Megasaur." We're still laughing over that one. But we don't have to worry about that now, because it's not a Megasaur, it's a Gwen!
We had our 20 week (alright, so, it's 21 weeks) ultrasound yesterday. And the ultrasound technician (what are they called? Sonographers?) said, in her infinite wisdom, that it was a girl. I could tell where the head and nose and arms and legs and feet were, but she had to point everything else out to us. Although it was so obvious when we saw the spine -- wow.
I was laying there, and the next thing I knew a couple of tears had rolled down my cheeks. ("Had rolled?" My grandmother would be appalled at my poor grammar.) It was so good to see that the baby was doing well, and growing okay. My husband, D, kept asking me if I was breathing, and I don't think I was. I was so nervous.
The baby kept moving her feet around. D said she was a little soccer player. I said she was a dancer like her mama. But I loved seeing her little clenched fists, up by her face, like she was boxing. She has been moving around a bunch, so maybe she's trying to box her way out. Hope she's more like Laila Ali than Jackie Frasier, or God forbid, Tonya Harding (remember when she was boxing -- why?). I don't even want to say that woman's name in any connection or comparison to my child. Ugh. Anyway, I've been calling her (our baby) my little American Gladiator. I'm really curious to know what kind of a personality she's gonna have.
I was laying there, and the next thing I knew a couple of tears had rolled down my cheeks. ("Had rolled?" My grandmother would be appalled at my poor grammar.) It was so good to see that the baby was doing well, and growing okay. My husband, D, kept asking me if I was breathing, and I don't think I was. I was so nervous.
The baby kept moving her feet around. D said she was a little soccer player. I said she was a dancer like her mama. But I loved seeing her little clenched fists, up by her face, like she was boxing. She has been moving around a bunch, so maybe she's trying to box her way out. Hope she's more like Laila Ali than Jackie Frasier, or God forbid, Tonya Harding (remember when she was boxing -- why?). I don't even want to say that woman's name in any connection or comparison to my child. Ugh. Anyway, I've been calling her (our baby) my little American Gladiator. I'm really curious to know what kind of a personality she's gonna have.
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