A reminder, this Thursday is our appointment to find out for sure whether we are having a boy or a girl. As all good parents we are just hoping the baby continues to be healthy, as with all honest parents we are secretly hoping for one sex or the other.
We've decided we will (of course!) find out whether it is a boy or girl, and share that news with our family and friends (and the whole world), but we've decided to keep the name a secret until the birth. This infuriates my mother, who apparently is all of a sudden very concerned about having gifts monogrammed (I never had anything from when I was a baby monogrammed). But I guess that's a grandma's prerogative. None the less, Baby Girl or Baby Boy Kipp will remain nameless (except for the heinous nicknames we'll come up with to use in the meantime) until she or he is here.
We have decided this for a number of reasons, which follow:
1. People can be completely insensitive and say they dislike a name, but if you introduce a child with the name people are a lot less likely to say something out loud about it.
2. You have to have some sort of building suspense to go along with a birth besides whether or not the baby will have hair or be bald.
3. I have decided that I will probably have two names picked out and then see which one suits the baby better once they are born. (This reasoning has yet to be ran by Adam, but I'm sure he'll agree with his pregnant, irrational wife.)
Speaking of irrational, here's my latest completely irrational pregnancy story-
A side effect of hormones is apparently having completely ridiculous dreams. I've had these pretty much from the get go, but the one I had a few days ago was just out there.
In real life, my boss had purchased some cheese and ate quite a bit for lunch before realizing it was quite moldy and probably not healthy to be eating. So in turn, in my dream, I had a dream that all the cheddar cheese (not the Parmesan or mozzarella) had gone bad and moldy. So the next day (in real life again) I asked Adam to throw away all the cheddar cheese in our fridge because I couldn't eat it any longer. Rational, normal Cara knew that the cheese in our fridge was in no way moldy or even old, but pregnant, irrational Cara could under no circumstances eat the cheddar cheese that was in our fridge at that moment.
The cheese was promptly disposed of.