The Results...After this Break

Well, we went to the doc yesterday for our ultrasound. We were in the waiting room 15 minutes when they came out and said the doc had to suddenly run to the hospital and they'd have to reschedule. We were totally crushed. It was a bummer day. Luckily, they had an opening for today, because other than that, it would have been next week, and Sam had already expressed concern about being out of links on our "baby" paper chain countdown.
Now I know how those people on reality shows feel when the hosts say they'll have the results...after the break. If the break was over 24 hours long, and they got little kicks to the bladder every few hours. (Not that the results changes the kicking, I'm just adding a little color to the picture). Daniel had taken the day off for it, we had lined up a sitter for Peyton weeks in advance, and now we had a last minute change of plans. Oh well, nothing you can do about it. Seeing as I was a baby born in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, I don't really feel too confident throwing a tantrum about babies who arrive at inconvenient times. It's not like I planned it, but still, I managed to mess up just about everybody with my arrival. Oddly, now I'm not the kind of person who likes to "make an entrance." Maybe I just know there's no way to top the first one I ever made, so why try?

So, we went back today, and had to take Peyton with us in the middle of his nap time. Daniel had to run over on his lunch break. I was stressed to the max about how this would go, and a little trigger shy (as if the odds were high of getting rescheduled again two days in a row, when it's only happened three times in as many pregnancies, but still, I was nervous).

Everything went well though, didn't have to wait too long, Peyton was actually really good considering his age, the time of day, and the fact that he couldn't touch anything.  Plus, the very first thing the doctor saw was the gender, so Sam could stop dancing around nervously after about 12 seconds.

It's a girl!

Instead of yelling with joy, or an exclamation of excitement, Sam blurted out loudly "I was RIGHT!!!!" She kept saying "I knew it was a girl. You didn't know, and Daddy didn't know, but I did." Finally, even the doctor commented on the fact that she seemed very happy to be right, maybe even more than she was happy it was a girl.
Hey, what can I say? She's totally my daughter.  The ladies in this family like to be right, and now we're getting one more. We will see how she will be, but I'd be surprised to no end if she doesn't like to right too. (Who likes to be wrong? No one.)

So, Sam is very happy, and while I would have honestly been happy either way, I'm very excited for both the baby and Sam. Daniel is happy too, because he was cool with either, but it's hard not to get super excited when one of your kids is so incredibly jazzed about something. I love my boy and wouldn't trade him for the world, or mind another one, but I love frilly dresses and shopping for baby girls is just so fun!  Plus, my family, and my only cousins on my dad's side too, oddly enough, were both girl, boy, girl, so it just seems familiar to me! We are over the moon for our baby girl!

Gender Identity Crisis

By now, our ultrasound to find out the gender of baby #3 is only a little ways away. Like 24 hours. Yea! I promised Sam she could go with us for the event, but I had a little inkling she might not be the politest of children if she doesn't get her "way" on the gender. She's been so very adamant about what she wants, and our attempts to tell her that either way will be fine have been met with eye rolls, and sometimes, insincere agreement so we'll let her go about her business. I was worried about her having some sort of bratty meltdown at the office. In fact, several months ago, when I told her the doctor might very well say "It's a boy," she looked at me like I was crazy and said "Well, I guess he might, but that's kind of a weird thing to say to a girl." So, yeah, she's fully entrenched in camp "pink" and has been for a while.
So, yesterday, I came up with the idea to "practice" what to do at the doctor office. We were getting ready for church, and I said "Okay Sam, what will you say if the doctor says, 'Let's see here...yep, it's a boy!"
Sam: "I'd say...Noooooooooooooooo!" Seriously, she couldn't have said it better if she was taking a bullet for someone in a movie. So dramatic.
Me: "Okay, well, that's why we're practicing. Don't say that. That would be super rude."
Sam: "Yeah, okay. But admit it mom, two little boys...would be a lot. It would just be a lot." Then she heaved a gigantic sigh.

Oh, yeah, right Sam. Two boys would be "a lot," as if raising you is some sort of cakewalk.
We'll get the verdict soon, but either way, I predict a lot of tiredness in my future. Because I've already got both genders, and both are totally crazy in their own way. I predict a third version of crazy this family has yet to see.