Well, I had the big appointment—blood drawn, apparently drug and STD tests (eyeroll! I get it, I’m a low-income pregnant lady. But wow, holy grim assumptions, Batman), peed in a cup, heard the heartbeat, got some delicious glucose to drink for next time, a referral for an ultrasound at the hospital and . . . a quickie ultrasound in the office. 😀 The midwife says that she’s 80 percent sure it’s a girl, and that “I certainly don’t see any sign of a penis or testicles.” She was also rocking out like crazy in utero, so I’m not nuts–I have been feeling her move. I really wish the Mister had been able to go along on this appointment; I’ve got to be sure to schedule the really official ultrasound for a time when he’s not working. When I was walking out of the office, I thought I’m going to have a daughter, and I was so excited that I started to cry. Then I realized that people might get the wrong impression from seeing a weeping pregnant lady, and I pulled myself together.