We go to find out tomorrow if we’ll have a boy or a girl. I know the scan is actually for other things but in my mind, anatomical stuff isn’t the main thing. Not to say that it isn’t important that we find out if the rat has two heads and/or eyes in the palms of the hands. Of course it is. I think what’s getting me is the thought that, at last, we get away from science and clinical terminology for a simple, basic answer. And I’m a ridiculous, sobbing mess at the thought of it.

As the day wears on, I’m less able to think of anything else or to concentrate at all, if we’re being honest. I try to picture myself staring at the monitor to see, to really, finally see……..and my throat closes up and my face turns purple and here come the waterworks.

I don’t cry pretty. Not at all, man. It’s actually kind of frightening.

All this hype means that the little rat will probably keep the goods to him/herself as long as possible. The more I anticipate it, the less it will happen. Just some tidbits I’ve picked up about myself and my luck though the years…

I thought tomorrow wouldn’t be a big deal, that nothing would make this real until the rat actually arrives (resisting the urge to inject “if” into that last thought). I think now that I was quite wrong. Tomorrow is to be shaping up to be a very big deal, in spite of me trying to maintain my denial….

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