Amniotic fluid levels were great, too. The tech said that while we may have been a little on the high end of the normal range, we were still well within comfort zones. And the baby? Well, we were active, seemingly happy, and very much engaged in play. The game of the morning was apparently "Capture the Foot," and our child was extremely determined to grab hold of the flailing appendage. Finally, as we watched on the screen, one small hand grabbed hold of a foot and gripped hard. Success! Eric murmured, "I wish people expected so much from me." We were both enchanted. Bit was also very cooperative in keeping both legs together, so the sex is still a mystery!

I really must mention that the procedure itself was torture. Someday, with any amount of luck, science will develop a technique of viewing the fetus that does not require a pregnant woman to fill her bladder and painfully hold it for a few hours, culminating in a procedure involving a technician's strong pressure on the outside of her stomach. Not pleasant, I assure you. Until we can develop that better procedure, though, may I please make a plea to all the clinics that provide fetal ultrasound? Although maintaining a peaceful decor is a noble goal, we of the full bladders have very little appreciation for trickling water fountains in the corners. Try a Zen garden instead; we'll all thank you.

We got several very nice pictures out of the bargain, too. I didn't expect nearly so many, but I was certainly not about to stop the technician from her blissful snapping. I've got them all scanned and labeled here:

• A nice profile shot of hand and face with open mouth
• Another profile shot
• One little leg, bent at the knee
• The final foot capture
• One little footprint
• Eric calls this one the "Fight the Power!" shot.
• Facing front, looking very much like the face on the surface of Mars
• Our child is apparently going to inherit my huge feet. Sorry, Bit.

Even after seeing our child move, squirm, and kick, I still have no idea about the sex. All I know is, I am more in love than ever with this baby. Even Eric seems more taken with the excitement now; this morning, he told me to hurry up with the pictures, "...so I can show the guys my baby by noon." He's actually a little disappointed now that we had to have the ultrasound at all, as he was really hoping to have none, but we're both relieved to have the niggling worry about my size removed from our heads. All systems are "go" for a homebirth in June! Now, to get prepared...

I think she's beginning to become a bit concerned now with our parenting plans. Twice, now, she's tried to pass on advice from Linda's nurse, saying that we need to use a pacifier, or the baby will use me as a "human pacifier." When she told me that, I simply tried to let it pass over my head and didn't say much except that we'd like to delay the introduction of any artificial nipples at least until breastfeeding is established. I guess that didn't please her, because last night she told Eric the same advice. It was amusing to hear, though only his end of the conversation, my own words echoing from his mouth. She then apparently tried to say something about spoiling the baby, which Eric quickly shot down. He promptly forgot what she had tried to say and was unable (or unwilling) to tell me what she had been saying.

She wants to know when she can come up after the birth. We haven't decided, and I'm not sure how to decide. During those first few weeks of motherhood, it's going to be vital that I be surrounded with support and help, not tension. Even if Rita and I were on the same page with regards to pregnancy, birth, and parenting, she doesn't have the experience to help me with breastfeeding, and I won't need much help with the baby in other capacities. I'd welcome her help with housekeeping and cooking, but I somehow don't think that's what she has in mind. Maybe I'm being pessimistic. I hope I am.

She also came right out and asked whether we were planning to call her when I went into labor. Now, that one we've decided; she will not be getting a call until after the Bit is here and doing well. I don't need to worry about her chain-smoking and crying while I'm trying to give birth to my child. I need positive energy, not secondhand fear. Eric fobbed her off with, "We haven't worked all that out yet." Naturally, anyone with even the smallest amount of people-reading skills would have been able to see though that excuse. After all, how far in advance do you have to plan a phone call? She seemed oblivious, though, so I'm sure she'll be calling to ask me next. I'm inclined to be honest and direct about it, but I think Eric would prefer that I dodge the issue. Ah, decisions, decisions.

My mom, though, has been asked to be at the birth. She's been nothing but positive about all our plans and decisions, and her own background, with two wonderful natural births and great breastfeeding experiences, makes her an ideal candidate for labor support for me. If we can only figure out how to have her up here in time for the birth, we'll be all set.