The crazy fantasy of everyone woman is over 36 weeks pregnant. That I will walk into my completely normal check-up and learn that, unbeknownst to me (despite having birthed three children previously), I'm in labor and must immediately go deliver my baby.
Yeah, it didn't happen. In fact, nothing's happening. My body likes being pregnant. Likes it so much, in fact, that it tries to keep my babies in permanently. Looks like I'm looking at another 41 weeker (and only that by induction). I'm kind of okay with that. I've had a sudden burst of what can only be called nesting in someone as pregnant as I am. I'm throwing out all sorts of stuff, cleaning the basement, finding baby clothes and other gear that's been stored away for three or more years.
If we knew what we were having, there'd be even more crap on its way out. If it's a boy, I've got a ton of baby girl clothes that someone will love. And if it's a girl, I'll get to use all of them (yay!) and my nephews will be well-dressed. I seem to have no newborn baby boy clothes, which I finally figured out is because Mr. T didn't care to reveal his gender either (that's what this current in utero child did).
I'm sort of hoping (yes, I admit I have a slight preference, but as long as it's healthy, will be thrilled either way) that it's a girl. I love our girl's name SOOOOOO much that I will be a little sad not to use it. I like our boy's name too, of course, or else I'd still be looking for The Name. Maybe because I spent so long searching for a girl's name that it just seems like a bigger reward.
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