I'm going to be super dee duper surprised if this baby is not a girl. Like, Barney the purple dinosaur flaps his feeble little arms in the air surprised.
"Hey there little baby! You have different genitals than I expected!"
First of all, in case I have not been whining about it quite enough, the NVP (nausea and vomiting of pregnancy) is outrageous. With James and with Will, it was just a matter of a little queasiness. With Elise, the nausea was similar and terrible but not quite this bad. So if I didn't know better--read: weren't getting ultrasounded every two weeks--I would go so far as to be convinced it was g/g twins or g/g/g triplets. Thrice the symptoms, thrice the babies, right?
And then there's the chinese gender chart thing. I do not believe for one hot, hormonal instant that this thing could possibly be accurate, even as I type this. But it was tripping me out today, as it correctly "predicted" (postdicted) all three of my previous kids' sexes based on age at conception and month thereof. And so when it decreed that this one will be a girl, too, I kind of sort of believed it.
I brought James and Elise to the eye doctor the other day, in one of the first times I've ventured out of our neighborhood in awhile. While we waited for the doctor, the kids were making requests as to the baby's sex. James wants a boy; his top name picks are Phineas and Ferb. Elise is demanding a girl baby. (Will didn't get to vote because he has freakishly good eyesight and was at karate, but he seems neutral.) I told them it was "up to God, and daddy's sperm". In hindsight, this was not the best answer. I think they came away from my confused, rambling, overly-caveated explanation with the idea that there's some kind of godlike quality to Joe's sperm. Not that I personally disagree, or that sperm are taboo per se, but it might be slightly wrong to talk about daddy's particular splooge.
Pictured: More than you need to know about Daddy.