"So, what do you want?"
"Fingers crossed you get your girl!"
"Will you have another if this is a boy?"
"You really NEED a girl."
Okay, let me go ahead and apologize in advance to what may possibly be a sweet little girl stretching her limbs in my uterus. I love you very much, baby, and I am thrilled to have you. Not because you are a girl (if the case may be), but because you are mine.
Also, let me get out of the way a quick apology to the dozens of people who have uttered any form of the previously printed statements. I know you don't mean any harm. I know you are genuinely curious as to my take on the matter and want to offer your hopeful opinions. None of this is directed at you, my dear friend. I know you will love my baby either way.
PS: If you are dissatisfied with the sex of my baby, please know I had nothing to do with it. Also, you're mean.
With such disclaimers out of the way, here we go.
In exactly one week (9:45 am Thursday, February 28 to be exact), I will take my seat in the OB clinic with three anxious boys waiting to hear my name called by my sweet nurse. Our little family will then walk directly into the darkened ultrasound room. I will climb onto the table and relax on the soft pillows as the technician readies the warm goo.
We will watch her wand do its magic and start to see our family's newest addition on the screen. She will take measurements, count fingers and toes, and then search for what I consider the most important part of this sweet baby's anatomy.
As anxious as I am to know whether we add a third Bauer boy to the mix or mix it all up with the debut of a sister, I am even more anxious to know my baby is okay.
The reassuring little kicks help me know that he or she is alive, but I'm ready for some substantial proof. The last peek I got was at an eight-week blob with a steadily beating heart. I want to see limbs. I want to see movement. I want to see the stomach filling with fluid and whether the cheeks are as full as Owen's.
But don't get me wrong, y'all, I want to see the goods, too.
When Jonathan and I decided a third kid was in the works, our minds didn't instantly go to pink walls and bows. Our minds went to how much bigger our hearts and our family would grow with this simple decision. I don't need a girl. Owen doesn't need a baby brother. What we all need is a healthy, happy, growing baby.
I cannot wait to put a name to the one who's responsible for my frequent bathroom trips. (And believe me, y'all, we have some awesome names picked out!) However, I can honestly say that no matter what word is typed across the computer screen in that cozy ultrasound room, tears will fall. I will praise the Lord for his goodness and I will love. so. hard.
With all of that said, I think it's a boy. (shock and awe!) Maybe I'm the devil's advocate. Maybe I can't fathom adding any more baby clothes to my house. Or maybe it's just mama's intuition.
But maybe it's a girl?
What do you think?? You have a 50% chance of nailing it.
Happy Thursday from me and my secretly-sexed child!