Dear little girl who keeps me waiting,
I now have the perfect story to throw out at your 13th birthday party, the day you bring a boy home, at your own baby shower someday. It's a story I find hilarious and one I'm sure you'll grow to hate. So I'll do my best to only share it on special occasions and not Facebook it.
On Wednesday I had what I hope to be my last doctor's appointment without a baby. For the record, I have another one scheduled on Monday afternoon in case you still haven't decided to vacate the premises, but I really hope that's an appointment I can cancel. The appointment was going well. I was at 3cm, things were moving and thinning and generally looking good. Then the doc said, "Wait. What's this? I've been feeling a head for the last few appointments and now it feels like a butt." She thought maybe it was just paranoia, but she wanted an ultrasound just to be sure. I looked at Papa Clay. A butt would mean c-section for sure, something I'm not particularly interested in.
We walked over to the ultrasound room and checked it out. Thankfully, you were still head down. I breathed a sigh of relief. No imminent c-section for me...just a kid whose head was mistaken for a butt. Which definitely comes from your father's side.
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