Well little asshole,
After months of being convinced by family and friends and convincing ourselves that you were a boy, we were nervously corrected by a chubby ultra sound tech and are slowly adjusting to the idea that you….are…a…girl. I feel only slightly different about calling you an asshole. I was a baby girl once, and I was and have always been an asshole of varying degrees, so you shall remain guilty until proven innocent. The appointment for me was emotional mostly because you started to feel and seem more real. Up until that very clear ultrasound where we saw all your fingers and toes, I was in a strange fog of referring to you as an it and on certain levels not really thinking you were actually coming out of there in November (by there I think we both know what I mean). Remodel is almost done; grandma will have the house decorated in no time… I’m fixing up your room/my office and whether we’re ready or not you’ll be here in 4.5 short months. This.Is.Insane.
I’ve barely gained weight and I can honestly say my tiny little bump is pretty adorable. I sat in the nail salon the other day and listened to some pregnant whale sized ladies talk trash about “skinny bitches who only look pregnant when they turn to the side.” I kept my mouth shut but the silence that filled the nail salon when I got out of my chair and walked up to pay was pretty hilarious. I think I’ve felt some kicks… at the end of my yoga practice when I’m in savasana and am holding perfectly still I can feel little flutters, which I’m told are your doing. The idea of a little human in there still freaks my out quite a bit but I’m keeping my eye on the prize. Can’t wait to get to know each other, I’m sure it’s karma that I had a girl. Dolls, vaginas, feelings…. All the stuff I’m not instinctually great at.
-Getting only slightly less awkward in the Target baby section