Angelina

I know my baby’s a girl. Not because I counted the days since Daniel and I last had sex, not because of a dream and not due to a psychic vision. I just know. I know the same way I know the sound of lawn mowers will always wake me on Saturday morning, the same way Daniel’s grungy bathrobe will always end up on the bedroom floor. I know.

I tell Daniel this and he agrees. Without any debate we decide on the name Angelina. Daniel immediately goes into the second bedroom and begins to clear his belongings out of it for Angelina.

I picture Angelina’s curly hair like Daddy’s and her feisty personality. I talk to her. I tell her that we are getting ready for her. I joke about her Daddy cleaning out his “man room”. I count the days I have accrued of vacation for maternity leave. I take a rolled up sweatshirt and put it under my shirt to see what I will look like. I will be cute pregnant, I am sure.