And the winning gender is.

Monday was our big ultrasound appointment. I had drank a bottle of orange juice on the way to the hospital because I read that it would help the baby move around so they would be able to look and see its gender easier. And because they always ask for a urine sample and I always get pee shy.
Well. Baby Poole was definitely moving. The ultrasound tech said it was squirming around in there quite a bit. She took lots and lots of measurements. Mostly I saw blobs on the screen that I didn't know what they were. Then I saw it. Baby Poole's spine. Finally a blob I could recognize. I looked over at Jeff and he had a huge grin on his face as he took pictures (or maybe video?) of the ultrasound screen.
The tech pushed and prodded my belly asking if it hurt. I said I was fine. She said that the baby was facing my back so it was hard to get a good look at what it was. "Oh crap," I thought. "We won't be able to find out its gender today." Then she got a shot from underneath its bum and I was pretty sure it looked like she was a boy. The tech confirmed my suspicions. Jeff laughed and looked at me. He came over and gave me a kiss. "It" was now "he." Even though Baby Poole was a tease, the tech was still able to get a shot of his squishy little face.
We met with Doc SlyCly for a few minutes. He told us our little boy looked like he was growing healthy and strong, and that he was right on track for my due date of January 18.

Baby Poole is a boy!

Oh, boy.
The more I think about him, the more excited I get.
We have some names we like, and one that we really like. But we're not committing to anything yet. (But sometimes I call him the name we really like in my head. To test it out. DTJ)

I keep thinking about what he could look like and act like. What he'll be like when he's three or eight or thirteen or...twenty-two.
I've decided I don't really care what his hobbies will be. As long as it's not like starting a terrorist group or anything like that. If he wants to play soccer or ballroom dance or start a band or be president of the math club or like plants, that's fine. Whatever he wants to do, his dad and I will be there to cheer him on.
What I really hope is that I can help teach him to be kind and compassionate and caring. To be aware of others and ways he can help them. To know that his actions have an impact on those around him. To look for those who are being left out or are shy and to befriend them. To bravely be his best self. And that there is often a greater reward in not following the crowd.
I want him to know that he is a son of God. That he always has been. That by being a boy, he has some sacred privileges and responsibilities. That his Heavenly Father will always be there to help and guide and comfort him. Especially when he is sad and even when he feels like his earthly parents are lame.
I hope he is patient and forgiving. Because Jeff and I have a lot to learn about being parents. And because people are people and will make mistakes. People that he really loves and cares about will hurt him. But I hope he knows, deep down, that he is always loved. By so many people.

A little baby boy.
Such an awesome responsibility.
We're just babies ourselves.