30.5 weeks

We were back at the hospital yesterday for our meeting with Fernie and he said all is well. We are so happy. We celebrated by finally going out for Steve's birthday meal, and Junior seemed very pleased with that. So, all the news is good, except that now I have a 5-day work week ahead of me! As the Cubans always say, 'no es facil...'
Sleeping is still terrible, but as long as baby is getting rest and chubby in my tummy, I can't complain. I've recently noticed a bunch of new freckles and moles in places that the sun certainly hasn't seen since I was a wee lass, when my mother insisted that we run around in boy-like trunks, perhaps because they had only two girls at that time. I googled them (the freckles, not the metro sexual trunks) and found that this is very common in pregnancy. I find changes like these very bizarre, but most intriguing and I guess they all build character.
Time is flying now. On Tuesday, we're 31 weeks. Baby's size is perfect and we are very grateful. According to the doctor, his/her head is like a 'coco'. Steve seems amused that his long face gene was crushed by the round headed Hares. I am grateful for his good humor on this one!
Throughout all the scans and 'urgencias' of the last week, we always reminded the doctors we didn't want to know the sex. One doctor looked baffled, but respected our wishes, until leaving the examination room when she paused and asked, "So, if it's a boy, what will you call it?" Steve and I just looked at each other and then she quickly asked the same for a girl. Colombians think we're crazy, but as one of the last great surprises left in life, we can't wait to see on the day. We're not decorating a nursery or anything here, since we're moving so soon, so the pressure's off there. What this baby doesn't have in colors and gadgets, we'll make sure it has in love. I've been so touched by the care and concern we've had from just about everyone here. If there's one good thing that comes from such a macho society, it must be that pregnant women reign! It's a very bizarre feeling accepting a stranger's seat on the bus or sitting down on a chair that someone has dragged half way across school for you, and I'm not sure if I like it, but I know it's not really for me. As one teacher said, I am no longer just "Victoria." I am "the mother of..." and I'm trying my best to be selflessly selfish.

A few more people, in search of their bonus points, have put their money where their mouth is. These are the outstanding few, aside from the dozens of predictions I get each day at school:

Mummy - Girl
Marina - Girl
Harriet - Girl
Steve - Girl

Anne - Boy
Colleen - Boy
Matthew - Boy
Whitney - Boy
Ali - Boy
Susannah - Boy
Me - Boy!

Let me know...