I had my 17 week appointment today … 17, omfg. Where the hell has the time gone?!

Nothing like the possible thought of someone checking out my vayjay to make me put on real non yoga clothes and perfume and shave my legs.

As though that somehow will make it all better?

But thankfully, none of that vayjayness up in here today. I don’t see what the big deal is, I’m going to have to birth a damn baby, so I might as well start making peace with random people staring at my nether regions. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though! I tell you, all dignity goes out the window when you find out you’re preg. All.

Hard to believe that in a mere three weeks I’ll have confirmation of this little Babe, or FOH, as I’ve nicknamed her. It stands for Future Of Humanity. All babies should be tagged as FOH’s.

And maybe I should stop saying her. Because I really don’t want to have my ass handed to me during that ultrasound. I don’t. However, I just can’t help myself. It comes out naturally. So naturally that I can’t tell you how many People have asked, when did you find out you were having a girl?!  Then I look really weird responding with, no but The Universe has sent me confirmation. I straight up need to keep my mouth shut.

But, really, People … look at this. Last week, I had hung up after a great conversation with Maman and asked The People for a sign about FOH, that this was, indeed, a girl and I wasn’t imagining my {wannabe?} mama intuition.

This gem was the next song that played on my go-to John Denver Pandora station. And all the times I’ve listened to this station, I don’t recall this song ever coming on, because when it did, I immediately hated it. In fact, had I not hated it, I never would have picked up the phone to hit forward and seen this.

It’s totally mean to be. Right?

{For anyone who has missed previous posts on FOH – her arrival is marked for April — the 26th}.