Ready to watch me act like a lunatic? I don’t think I had ever really been this excited in my life as I was on Tuesday night. In fact, I’m not sure if anybody has ever been this excited. The first trimester of pregnancy is totally boring. YES, of course I’m so grateful (remember we had been trying for a year) and I’m so excited to have a family, yadda yadda, but for the first few months you are just exhausted and bloated with no real sign that your future family–and obsession–is living inside of you. I’m a high energy person. Dare I even say, I’m a good time. But I haven’t been the last few months. I’ve been falling asleep around 9:30 p.m., kinda irritated with most people, and generally less motivated to do anything except work a ton and watch “The Killing” and “Dawson’s Creek” (but just the Pacey/Joey years … my lord that show can be boring).
So finding out the gender in front of some of our closest friends was more exhilarating than an astronaut’s first time launching into space … while on ecstasy.
And because of that I acted like a lunatic. I was crazy nervous. I want both a boy and a girl equally (or so I thought), but you can tell by the color of my face that I was totally shocked.
It’s so weird. You know it’s either a boy or a girl. It’s not going to be a raccoon, but it’s still a total shock. It’s the best surprise ever because either way it’s good, but it effects your life in two very different ways. Clearly I didn’t know what to do with the news (and ribbon) so I put it on my stomach all awkwardly. Man, I’m so glad we have this moment on tape.
Basically the weird 4D ultrasound place wrote it down and shoved it in an envelope. I gave the envelope, sealed, to Orlando and he wrote the gender on a piece of paper which he put in a balloon. We then had friends over for “Man-hattans” and “Pink lady champagne” and popped said balloon. I highly recommend doing this. For the next four hours we deliberated names with our increasingly drunk friends and it was terribly fun.
Already the pregnancy is far more fun just knowing who this stranger is inside of me and planning on how I can already manipulate him/her into living with me forever and ever, a la Norman Bates (without the taxidermy and murderous tendency). And yes, that’s a clue. Or is it?
Happy weekend, folks. It definitely will be for me because YES now I can start over-planning the nursery and hoarding vintage kids clothes properly. When is it too early to give a fetus a style diagnostic?