We're down to only 13 hours to go before the ultrasound. The votes between boy and girl are neck-and-neck (7 to 6), and it's anyone's game at this point.
I have been waiting anxiously for tomorrow's appointment like I've waited for few other things in my life, and with an impatience that rivals that of any 5-year-old. After our first glimpse of Weeble, I couldn't wait to get more - to learn more about this little person growing in - of all places - me.
Now that tomorrow is nearly upon us, I am all nerves. This probably explains my bizarre behavior in the last hour before I left work today (unnaturally snippy and jittery) and in the car on the way home (even meaner and with more one-sided angry conversations than ever). To the people who were affected by this today, I do apologize. Chalk it up to part nerves, part excitement, part exhaustion, and utter terror for what tomorrow's glimpse will show.
I know I shouldn't worry. What would be the point? I'd just stress myself out and be miserable (read: I have stressed myself out and made myself miserable). Even if there is something wrong with the baby that comes to light tomorrow, what will worrying about it now do? (see above) But I can't help it. Like anyone who loves someone the way I love this little Weeble, I want him or her to have an easy, happy life. And a long one to boot. What if that is not what is destined for my child? How do parents face that question before they've even become parents?
All I can do for now is wait. Thankfully, I have a boatload of ironing to keep me occupied until I go to bed. Not to mention the mini-marathon of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Yeah, that'll take my mind of my worries.
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