The difference between 12 weeks,
And 21 weeks,
Is pretty darn significant. I might even say “sizeable.” The first three months of pregnancy are so incredibly anxious, quiet, and slow, that I never imagined how fast the remainder would go. Yes, I’m told this is going to be what the rest of my life is going to be like. I believe it. But we’ve been furtively collecting pictures between classes and work and appointments and everything else. Because I may not remember the geography of the Ancient Near East in forty years, but I’m sure not going to forget this.
Last week, we went for our second ultrasound, and got the pleasure of staring at our baby for a good forty five minutes. When they call it the “anatomy scan,” they aren’t kidding; I think they must have measured every bone in that child’s body. I saw more of my kid’s innards than I ever will again, certainly more than I’ve ever seen of mine. I can see now why people skip ultrasounds; it felt a little bit like cheating. But you can’t bet we’re not regretting it this time.
Because we now know we’re having a girl.
And all I can think about is little RUFFLES. Little silk-merino lace ruffles, on the edges of bonnets, on a christening gown, on the ends of pant legs and sleeves, on the hems of dresses.
If I get time to make nothing else for the finally bracket-less Cyrilla, I’m making something like this:
(This is a Christening set by Janine Le Cras.) Something vintage or heirloom-looking, in white, with lots of garter stitch and lace and a big pink ribbon (easily replaced by a blue ribbon, if necessary).
I am a good duck, reading Dr. Sears and Ina May and collecting references for good parenting books. But it’s all I can do to keep myself from browsing ravelry, and Posie gets Cosy (don’t read her story unless you want to cry; scroll down for impossibly cute vintage baby objects). And finding everything I can with precious little ruffles.