Many of you, we've already told first-hand but for the greater world at large, specifically my enormous fanbase in the Congo and southern Chad, we are.. Esra is .. where is my drumroll??? Damn it, Frank, get in here.. I said drumroll ... that's better. Pregnant. Expecting. Mom-i-fied. Dad-i-fied. Initiated, inaugurated, inculcated (oops, sorry, not inculcated). Having gone from that group of humans that do not have children to (soon, though it feels like now) that group of humans with them.
We are, Esra is, 15 weeks along and our little foetus looks more or less exactly like this:
I sort of want to know the sex of the baby but Esra doesn't so we're going to keep it a secret until/unless the moment comes where Esra does want to know. And then we will know. And then I will tell you. Either way, as you can see in the photo, our baby has awesome written all over it. It's developing with textbook perfection.. as our doctor told us "your baby is A+ .. you have an A+ baby". Little did I know that the school grading system also applied to the gestational process. (or that "your baby is A+" would then have to be rephrased for us as ".. you have an A+ baby")
Not pictured in the ultrasound are those little cutenesses that have developed this week: the ears, the eyes moving from side mounted fishy eyes to forward facing, wiggling fingers and toes, and breathing, sucking and swallowing (relative cuteness level undetermined).
More pictures and news to come, including belly shots (like it or not) ((Esra's, not mine)) as her belly balloons babyward.
As for me? Wow. it's all so much to absorb. Thinking about it sometimes brings about a dreamlike daze that I should probably avoid while driving. How else can you tell I'm a slightly different person? I'm going to sign off before I write half a novel. Like I normally do.
So many changes.
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