26 Weeks, 3 Days

I had the most vivid dream about you last week.
I meant to jump on here and record it immediately but I didn't though it doesn't matter.
I still remember it so clearly.

We had gone in for another ultrasound, one last little peek at you.
And I was laying there, while they were taking pictures and I was so excited to see you again.
You were much bigger than you were just six weeks ago when we saw you last and this time, you weren't shy.

Though the techs knew that we didn't want to know your gender, there was an accident.
Or in my dream, I think I thought it was almost intentional.
I'm not really sure why; maybe because we'd been so adamant about NOT knowing who you were that I couldn't believe that someone made such an incredible mistake.

These ultrasound photos that they took, they tossed up onto an illuminated box, exactly how they would do it in order to read an x-ray.
The whole of you lit up immediately and I could see your face so clearly (you looked identical to the one good photo we were able to get in our last real ultrasound session where you looked just like Chas) and just as I was sitting up and exclaiming with delight, my eyes trailed downward and there, before the world, you presented your gender.
As plain as day.

You were a girl.

And I was so completely thrown, excited and PISSED--I remember my stomach dropping at the sight of your girly bits and my sheer joy to be expecting another daughter but I also was throwing a major fit because (and this is what I kept saying), "I wanted that surprise!" 
I wanted that surprise in the moment, the realization of your gender, and though I'll love you either way, I think I'd be truly tickled for another girl.

Let me explain because that might sound bad.
I don't want you to think I prefer one gender over another.
I don't.
I do not.
I once thought I did, I really wanted Chas to be a girl because I have NO boys on my side of the family--I didn't grow up with any brothers or even a father around so his maleness was totally foreign to me.
But that changed instantly (of course it did, the second I held him--he could have been an alien, I was that smitten) and it's been the same for me ever since.
I rather like having all these boys.
But I sure am glad to have my Greer.

Take for example, what happened yesterday, which actually sparked a gender conversation between your dad and I.
Memaw had taken Chas, Rhyse and Greer out for the afternoon to give us some time to prepare dinner and to get ready for our Easter egg hunt.
They'd been gone for awhile when the phone rang.
My caller ID said it was Chas so I picked up quickly.

"Hi!"
"Hi.  Is Dad there?  Can I talk to Dad?"
(Pause)
"Um, yes, he's here." (Pause) "Is everything ok?"
I thought maybe something was wrong and he didn't want to tell me first because he knew I'd freak out. 
Oh, how wrong I was!
"No, nothing's wrong.  I got new roller blades and I wanted to tell him."
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
"Oh!  Oh, wow, ok.  Hold on, I'll get him."

Those pauses?
That was me processing the fact that I am not necessarily the preferred parent anymore for my oldest boy.
It's a given that through childhood, Mama is just...well, just about everything.
The sun rises and sets with Mama.
At least in this house, that's the way it is; the way it's always been.
But his call startled me in a way that I didn't much like.
He wasn't calling to share his news with ME, he was calling to share it with his dad.
And I don't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate that relationship between them; oh, how I do.
I love that they grow closer as the years go by.
But I felt...left out.

I came downstairs a little while later and lamented to your daddy.
"This family needs some balance because you have ALL THESE BOYS and they're going to grow up and be your best friends--you'll all be hanging out in the basement drinking beer and playing pool while I drive Greer nuts because she's my only daughter and the only one I can truly relate to in this family full of MEN!"

"No, you won't," he said, which started to sound sweet until he added, "because Greer will be down there drinking beer and playing pool with us!"
Over. My. Dead. Body.
She will be shopping and mani/pedi'ing it with me or else I will go off my ROCKER.
I need some girl in this family.

And so, there you have it.
If you're a boy, welcome to the damn party, son.  You've come to the right place.
And if you are a girl, thank you, thank you, thank you for even-ing things up a bit around here!

One thing's for sure, whoever you are, you are growing by leaps and bounds every week it seems!
Luckily, I still feel terrific and I'm hoping to ride this wave of wonderfulness for as long as I possibly can because once it starts to go downhill, it won't come back up again until you arrive.
I remember my "point" with Creux was at 32 weeks.
It was downhill from there and it was a looooong way to week 39 (and 5 days).
But you don't seem as big as he was, even now (though I may eat those words at 32 weeks when I'm convinced that I'm ready to deliver you from all the pressure and aches and pains) and you are definitely more relaxed. 
(PLEASE don't make me eat those words!)

Somehow a whole month has passed and it's time for our midwives appointment tomorrow!
I'm looking forward to the visit--I always am.
Though I think...the next time I come, I will be THIRTY WEEKS.
Wow!
Just one more month and we'll truly be in the homestretch, with you able to safely arrive just seven weeks after that point.
Maybe that sounds long but a week passes in a blip for me.
Especially right now, with our lives as busy as they are.

I feel like I'm in some wicked spin cycle and I'm going to be dumped out at the end of May, when school ends, when soccer stops, when summer officially begins.
That's really scary to me because I feel like I do actually have a lot I need to take care of before you arrive and right now, I barely have time to shower.
We still have a major renovation to do with my bedroom and a big vacation looming, plus our weekends have been sucked up by sporting obligations which leaves...June.
Exactly where I DIDN'T want to find time for your stuff.
I wanted to be done by June.
I don't think it's going to happen but...we'll see.
I guess so long as we're ready by early July, it'll be fine in the end.

I need to make some firm decisions in the next little while...your name (am pretty solid on your Maybe Girl, am waffling on your Maybe Boy), to circ or not circ (nothing like a SMALL detail like that to chew on), I need to choose your diapers (am I going cloth?--maybe), buy you something sweet and cozy for your first night here, decide on my sling, etc. etc. etc. 
Just...stuff.
Stuff that's cluttering my head and making me feel like I'm starting to run behind schedule.
I'm not--not yet but I'm starting to toe the line if I want to relax in June.
And I really want to relax in June.

I'm carrying you very high which isn't unusual and not significant of anything except that's how you babies fit in my body.  Some people look and say, "boy" or "girl" but it's never seems to make a difference to my body.
At the end of the day, I'm starting to feel a lot of pressure on my pelvic floor and at times I can feel you turning your head.
It almost tickle hurts.
That's the best way I can describe it.
You're still tapping away in there and surprisingly, I'm not terribly uncomfortable right now.
I'm slower for sure, have perfected the waddle, can barely get up off the floor without pulling down a bookcase in order to help me up, and would really, really, really like to not gain another ounce but other than all that....I feel amazing :)

Thanks for being so good to me.
It almost makes up for how much I wanted to die back in weeks 7-13 :)
(I said almost.  You are not totally off the hook yet for that stunt.  I'm banking on the whole Chill Baby thing and then you'll be cleared of all wrong-doing.  I will not delete the entries just so you know how miserable I was and that should translate to how much I love you but I will not hold it over your head.
For too long ;))

Loving you already,
Mama