Hee hee. Hope I got your attention with this post’s title. But no raunchy writing here today. The title simply refers to the sex of our baby on the way. It is KNOWN.
From the moment we found out we were pregnant, I knew the baby I was carrying was a girl. The grand maternal voice deep within my soul–that sacred intuition, painstakingly honed over the past four years–whispered "girl, girl, girl" as I drifted off to sleep each night, in the quiet and the dark. You, oh eternal maternal voice, urged me to thank heaven for little girls. You had me stopping in department-store aisles to smooth the eyelet lace on pastel-pink frilly frocks, size 0-3 months. You concocted a mix of sugar and spice and swirled it into my dreams.
Well, holy snips and snails. Turns out, it’s a boy. So much for my maternal instincts.
We’re giggly. We’re tickled. We’re thrilled.