Today is an exciting day, so I woke up way too early, unable to sleep. Today we make our fourth visit to the obstetrician, and hopefully we'll be able to learn our baby's gender from the ultrasound. I am impartial to the results. Either way it goes, I'll be happy. Misty, on the other hand, is clearly rooting for a girl. So much so, in fact, that if the nurse tells us it's a boy, she's likely to do something along the lines of demanding a second opinion. She wants a girl. We'll know this afternoon (probably).
The one bad thing that comes with knowing the baby's gender is the rejuvenated barrage of name suggestions. For the most part, I've been able to keep such suggestions at bay lately, with the postulate that there's no point in trying to select a name when we don't know if the baby is a boy or a girl. That idea goes out the window today, and for the next five months, I'm sure, the baby's name will change every other day. By the time it's born, I'll be so confused, I won't know what to call it. I'll probably just have to stick with "baby" for the first few weeks until Misty repeats its name often enough for it to stick with me.