Half-Baked.

Tomorrow, Chris and I pay another visit to the doctor. (Whomever coined the term "pay a visit" obviously had the same health insurance that I do.) My March co-pay is due, and I'm going to have Chris write out the check because my hand is likely to cramp halfway through- it's that big a number. And really? For the relationship Dr. J has with my girl parts, he should at least take me out to a nice dinner.

Aside from draining our bank account of most of it's heft, the objective of the visit is to have an ultrasound. This is the ONE TIME where I will openly encourage my child to PLEASE, for the love of God, flash them genitals!

Hey you in there, are you a girl? If you are, your uterus is already formed, and you have all the eggs that you will release throughout your entire life. That means I am potentially carrying not only my daughter, but all future grandchildren as well. No pressure there.

Are you a boy? Are you mad that I make us watch really corny TV shows? Do you hate it when Maddy and I listen to pop songs performed by women? Are you going to grow up and hate your father and me because we're middle-naming you Pirate? Um... am I growing a penis in the depths of my belly?

I am just barely past the halfway point in this pregnancy, and I've felt consistently ok for the last week or two, which is a huge improvement. Let the fun begin!