A Kick in the Bladder

I've been waiting for this.  I actually told someone two days ago that I was sure I'd feel it this week.  I was 17 weeks with Gavin when I first felt his kicks, and sure enough, this little bean is right on schedule. I like this about his or her personality already.  

Speaking of the his or her thing—we find out the sex next Tuesday.  I am equally excited, nervous and sad.  Like Megan, there's just something about the time of wonder and daydreaming whittling down that is unsettling.  Our lives could take two totally different directions based on next week, and I can imagine it both ways.  

A little boy to wear all my favorite outfits from when Gavin was a baby, brothers hanging out together, confiding in each other, becoming the best of friends.

Or a little girl to dress up in frilly things and hair bows, be protected by her older brother, and girl talks when she's older.

Either way feels like some kind of loss, though either way is really a win.  And I know when I lay on that table and see little arms and legs thrashing, a tiny heart beating, and I’m told everything is perfectly perfect—that’s all I’ll really care about.