Well, it turns out that I’m not the first person* to have terrible morning sickness that just goes away well before the end of the first trimester without meaning anything is wrong. [Now, wasn’t that nice of me to put the thesis in the opening paragraph? Make a note, wayward 1A students.]

Peanut and I went to see the doctor, with me telling him that, since I’m not feeling sick anymore, I probably had some germs in my tummy, not a baby in my uterus. Because sick from germs goes away and sick from babies usually doesn’t. He’s known those are the two options. I didn’t want to tell him, because it’s way too early and things could go wrong, but it’s really hard for a little guy to see his mom barfing five and six times a day and not get some reasonable explanation. So he knows the choices are germs or baby. He’s always been sure it’s a baby.

So the doc tried for a doppler heartbeat. Nothing. Then she pulled out the ultrasound (which made for really premature discussion about where she would put it and why boys have one hole for pee but girls have one hole for pee and one for babies) and said she didn’t know what I was worried about, but there was a really healthy heartbeat and a baby growing exactly as it should (no slowing down, which would have decreased the hormones and explained the lack of sickness but meant it was probably not viable).

Peanut said, immediately after the doc left, that he didn’t like her or her office or her toys. And he doesn’t want a baby. So sweet and classic and predictable and understandable. I only said, “I understand. Do you want to tell me more about that?” He said that Madeline, his stuffed monkey didn’t like the doctor or the office or the toys or babies, either. Fair enough.

Then after Spouse came home Peanut stopped mid-bite at dinner to announce the baby’s presence to Daddy and ran to get his picture of the baby and told Daddy that he would be a really nice brother because he could give the baby a rattle if it was crying or pat it on the head. And do we know the baby’s name and if he thinks of a really nice name he will call the baby that name and how about his friend’s name and how will I get the baby out (when it’s ready I’ll push really hard; thank goodness that was enough info) and maybe if the baby wants some tortellini he will share his. I’m sure he’ll go back and forth a lot, but this steady patter of positive was even more sweet (and less predictable) than the anti-OB tirade, and was the first time I was pretty sure how I felt about the whole daunting and terrifying and overwhelming prospect of next year.

And he says it’s a girl. He was right about his cousins’ genders and about his friend’s brother. So we’ll see. Ink said the same thing, though, and she’s right about everything, may the Universe help us.