The Gender Predictor

Friday afternoon was a gal chat fest with my sisters and my mom at my house. We talked about my new pregnancy, and I let it slip that I think we're having a girl. I said it's just a feeling I have, but I've also had three dreams where people come up to me to tell me I'm having a girl.

And then my mom said she had a dream that I'm having a girl, too. That clinched it. My mom and I have shared dreams like that all of my life. Could be considered prophetic, or intuitive. Whatever. I thought my mom's dream was nifty.

It wasn't anything poignant or dramatic. She was just walking past a baby laying on the floor, cooing and giggling. And she did a double take. Who is that baby? And then she knew. It was Cheryl's daughter. End of dream. Just a flash. But it was enough to send me spinning with joy.

Honestly, I'll be fine if this little fetus turns out to be another boy. Ben rocks, and it's tradition in my family and my husband's family to have two boys first. If anybody were to bet on the contents of my uterus, the odds would be in favor of a boy. My mother had two boys first. My brother had two boys. My in-laws had two boys. Chester's brother had two boys.

And, although I've had dreams where my daughter Somerset visits with me and plays with me, who knows. That might be my adopted daughter. I've always known that when we can afford it, I want to be a foster mom, and hopefully adopt. After all, we are shutting down the baby factory after this new little miracle comes out.

In other news, I told my husband that I still like the name Henry for a boy. And if we have twin girls, I want the other girl to be named Marlowe. That's a weird name that came to me when I was falling asleep Friday night. I think it's nifty. Marly is a cute nickname. I might get over it, though. Who knows.

Okay. I'll admit where I heard "Marlowe." I watch old studio movies from the 40s and 50s every night while I'm falling asleep. Chester turns off the tv when he comes to bed, but I find it easier to settle my mind with my movies on in the background. The viewing choice for that evening was "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter" with Tony Randall, Betsy Drake and Jayne Mansfield. The blonde bombshell character, played by Jayne, of course, is named Rita Marlowe. I just like the way that name sounds when they say it.

Today is the first day of my eighth week of pregnancy.

And I was spazzing out a lot over the weekend about fears of a miscarriage. My best friend lost her baby when she was in her eighth week. And the thought of it happening to me scares the crap out of me. I made Chester go to the store to get a pregnancy test, just so I could be reminded that I actually am pregnant. (Yes, I know that a pregnancy test could still be positive if I was having a chemical pregnancy. I don't care. The test means nothing in reality, but it made me feel better).

Other reminders of the pregnancy helped as well. My breasts ballooned up last night and were very swollen and tender when I was trying to get to sleep. And I threw up again this morning when I was dumping out a bottle that had a bit of spoiled milk at the bottle. Still haven't gotten over that one.

Life's okay, though. Just one more month until that magical 12-week mark. I have my next prenatal appointment on the 23rd of April, and hopefully we'll get to hear the heartbeat.