Thank Heaven for Little Girls

You read that right, folks! These babies in this here belly are GIRLS!

After the most agonizing wait in the history of mankind, we found out the sex of the babies yesterday. I cried. Chris probably could have cried, but not for the same reasons. (Instead, he came home at noon and drank heavily.)

Everyone looks perfectly perfect. Baby A, formerly known as Poncho, had a heart rate of 143; Baby B, formerly known as Lefty, was at 130. Both weighed in at an estimated 8 ounces and both were very active. Bones were where they should be, hearts working just right, bladders and tummies full (I will not judge them for swallowing their own pee, I will not judge them for swallowing their own pee), brains fully developed, strong bones. Perfectly, perfectly perfect.

In other great news: The Glacier, a.k.a. the placenta, has moved! The Blob has a little bit hanging out over the cervix, but the body of it has moved away. The maternal-fetal specialist was confident that, by my next appointment in three weeks, it’ll be completely out of the way and it won’t pose any worry for the babies or my delivery. Hooray! I might get to go for a vaginal delivery after all!

An interesting tidbit: These babies might be fraternal. Yes, shocker. The Blob is a large mass on the anterior wall of my uterus. Meanwhile, there is a small blob, a defector if you will, on the back wall of the uterus. This emigrant is a little island off the coast of the Mother Country – kind of like Hawaii, or Gibraltar. Again, the doctor said it wasn’t posing a problem, but she wasn’t 100% confident in sticking with the idea that the babies are identical. We’ll probably just end up testing the placenta after delivery to be sure.

I must admit, I had a few moments of hesitation before the appointment. It made me sad to think that the babies would now become something else. That moment of gendering disturbed me, the idea that our innocent little children have their fates decided before they’re even viable outside the womb — that’s sad.

Anyhow. So much changes now, and so much can begin. The nicknames, for starters, will have to go. Poncho and Lefty are just too masculine. Huey Lewis and Chuck Norris are out of the running for names. I guess Bel Biv de G____ and Bing A’Deliq are both out too. Bummer. Those were my favorites.

On the suggestion of friend, we could go with Salt n’ Pepa; thus, it would only be logical to play “Push It” during labor. Laverne & Shirley are obvious nickname choices, as are Thelma & Louise (though the latter choice is a bit morbid for my tastes, especially if it involves having sex with a conniving redneck — yes, even if it is a young Brad Pitt).

Oh yeah, and we’ll have to come up with real names too.

And I can now plan a nursery in the corner of the house I’ve been allotted for the babies. Hooray! Don’t worry, girls — I’ll be kind.

Here are the ultrasound photos.