So I’ve been keeping a secret from you guys and gals, but I can’t hold it in any longer — Mrs. YHT is pregnant! Knocked up! With child! And not just any child — a girl child!
We found out the baby’s sex on a Wednesday in early March, thanks to the doctor-provided crotch shot posted (but closely cropped) above. That’s when I learned that if you go the “Don’t tell me right away — put it in an envelope so we can open it later” route like we did, they don’t just write “It’s’ a girl!” on a sheet of paper and seal it up. They put a picture in there — the picture, if you catch my drift — which struck me as hilariously undignified when I heard that’s what they were doing. Already there are stories I can’t wait to embarrass her with…
I always thought it was bologna when people said they had a hunch about a baby’s sex, but I really did feel like it was a girl. I even wrote a thing a few months back that may or may not see the light of day about wanting a girl, and how it was the picture of paternal devotion painted by Animal Collective’s song “My Girls” that sparked that quiet yearning before Mrs. YHT even started talking about having kids. We would have been happy either way, of course — ten fingers, ten toes, that’s the goal here — but we’re completely over the moon right now. Thinking of names. Thinking about what it’ll be like to meet her.
We opened the envelope that Wednesday evening after I’d gone for a quick run, just before leaving the house for a celebratory dinner. Guess what song played at the restaurant while we were getting ready to order our food?