We are narrowing down names, but girl bean has been redubbed "Beana" for the time being. Much bigger than a bean now (in fact, she is just about a pound and a half!) She is moving like crazy and kicking and making herself known many times a day now...it is heavenly! I simply love knowing she is in there and alive and well.
I know I am pissing off women everywhere who have had morning sickness or food aversions or horrible heartburn and anxiety and insomnia, but I find myself saying the following phrase often and repeatedly: There is nothing about being pregnant that I haven't completely loved.
During my ultrasound on Wednesday the technician paused and looked at me.
"How tall are you?"
"5-9" I said.
"How tall is her dad?"
"He's tall!" I answered. "6'5" or so."
She nodded and smiled. "This girl's legs are l-o-n-g long. She's measuring around the 28th or 29th week for legs." She snapped a cutie pie picture of her long-ass legs all tucked up, knees to forehead and ankles crossed and handed it to me. It's precious.
Later I told Jon who laughed and said, "That's my girl!"
What this brought crashing beautifully home to me in a way that tugs at that place in your throat that trembles when you know you're about to cry is that this little person, this perfect, wondrous being is something that is completely Jon and me. We made her. She is us. God I love that. I love that almost as much as I love that she is kicking me softly right now -- a deep and tender thump somewhere under my bellybutton, letting me know she's there.
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