100 days

It was mollen's turn to go to the midwife appointment.
We were late 'cause the traffic was horrible.
We worked on spelling the whole way there. Bet, bit, bat, rip, chip, dip, pin, cat, dig...
You name it, we spelled it. She brought her little notebook & with her short fingers carefully wrote each word in block letters as she tried to sound it out with her little lispy tongue peskily getting in the way.
When we arrived, we weighed ourselves & took ourselves to the bathroom. Mollen snickered at the art that had embarrassed her big brother when it was his turn to come to my appointment. Whimsical, hippy pregnant bellies painted with psychedelic shapes & patterns - floating pregnant bodies with enormous bare breasts - some modern version of a mythical gestational dreamland.
"You can come on in, Paige." The midwife called.
Mollen giggled nervously.
We chatted about my concerns - and she took my blood pressure... i caught Mollen yawning...
& then a surprise.
That little baby's heartbeat didn't sound like the whoosh whoosh i had promised Mollen. Nope, that little heartbeat was galloping like a horse (babe's little back was right up against the doppler & the sound carried incredibly)... It caught me off guard & i whispered, 'i'm so excited...' & the midwife smiled & said, "it is a pretty amazing sound, isn't it?"
We skipped out of there - our feet barely skimming the wet pavement - our hearts humming with the excitement that comes from a brush with the secret magic of the unborn.

So, maybe 100 days till i meet you face to face... the ultrasound said less - i'm betting it'll be more...
i had a dream that the ultrasound was wrong about your sex.

& it didn't matter.