Wes and I went out for lunch today to one of the restaurants on base today, and unbeknownst to us, it just happened to be chicken fajita buffet day! Best lunch ever. The only way they could outdo themselves now would be to host a Chick-Fil-A chargrilled chicken sandwich buffet lunch.
(Have I mentioned that I really like Chick-Fil-A?)

We’re counting February 20th as the first big fetal movement day. Is that what it’s called? I remember first feeling Ana move while taking an afternoon nap (what’s that?) and lying there for two hours afterwards, feeling her tiny little movements, being swept up in the magic of it all, and picturing our perfect little one. This time? I managed to get five minutes of alone time, which I used to shower. Right before the shower ended, I felt the familiar little flutter… and then, a couple of minutes later, another one in close proximity to the first. Then, I went to sleep. I would feel guilty about not relishing the moment or contemplating the “magic” of new life, but I know now that I’m going to be feeling her move a whole lot in the months to come. (And the flutters will turn to all out body contortions — mine and hers both — during that last trimester.) I’ll bask in the wonderment when I have more time and energy, which should be around the time Emma leaves for college.

Speaking of Emma, she might be a he. For the record, I’m still saying it’s a girl, but there was something questionable in between her legs during the last sonogram. I didn’t mention it because, as the doctor said, there wasn’t much of that something there… but there is some confusion. He said he would look again next time. I’m not opposed to a boy. Just kind of opposed to the thought of being the mother of a grown man. Not even that as much as I’m opposed to being some poor girl’s mother-in-law. Isn’t that horrible? When you know yourself well enough to know how you might possibly, worst case scenario, act in certain relationships? Maybe I’ll grow as a person between now and then. I hope so. Or maybe this really is Emma, and we won’t have to worry about it! (So, that’s a cop out. But at least I’m being honest!) Here’s hoping…