Week 19

Chip and I are sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Simmons’ office, about to find out whether to paint the nursery seashell pink or cornflower blue. That is, of course, if the baby hasn’t inherited its father’s extreme sense of modesty. Chip wouldn’t even change in front of our next-door neighbors’ female Pomeranian when we dog-sat one weekend.

It’s so cliche to say it, but I would really be happy with either a boy or a girl. (Chip is reading over my shoulder and says he would too. And that he doesn’t appreciate the dog comment.) I speak for both of us when I say we’re just happy to be having a baby, period.

Oops, got to go. They just called our name. I'm so excited!

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IT’S A GIRL! I can’t believe we’re going to have a girl. And I can’t believe how much she’s grown! I don’t know what she could possibly be noshing in there, but she was chewing. And she rolled. And she moved her arm up near her face. (Can you tell I’m smitten?) Her spine is perfectly formed. And so are her little toes! Chip went absolutely nuts when he saw those itty-bitty feet.

We’ve got new ultrasound pictures to tack onto the refrigerator, including one where the baby has a rascally expression that Chip insists looks just like him.

So it looks like the future holds dolls, stuffed animals, telephones, sleepovers, and dance lessons for the McAllisters. And lots of adorable little outfits that are definitely girly but not too fru-fru.

And most important, a mother who had better be ever-vigilant that her husband doesn’t get wound too tightly around this little one’s pinky.