My OB Is A Self-Proclaimed Temptress

I am officially 33 weeks and some change. I am measuring about two weeks ahead. Which means, well, nothing. Maybe it just means there is a whopping big baby in there. Maybe it means there is a normal size baby in there. It's not so much the size that concerns me...

It's the Who?

As in , what gender? Is this our fourth girl or will we have our Bookend Boys?

You people, yes, you... my family, my friends, my Twitter Peeps, strangers who eyeball me suspiciously if I catch my breath oddly... y'all have yet to quit asking if it's a boy or a girl. It's hard for a girl to have a spine when most everyone gasps and proclaims, "Oh, I could never be surprised! I need to know!!"

Well, this is our third surprise. Thomas and Elizabeth were the other two. I did okay (I think) with Thomas. I felt the pressure of suspense with Elizabeth. And with this one?

Y'all! My OB has waltzed into my little exam room at every appointment since The Big Ultrasound (which I apparently didn't post about!) and grinned and giggled as her eyes shine and she reminds me, yes, even taunts me, with her knowledge. The last question she tosses at me before she dances out the door is, "Are you suuuuuuure you don't want to know?!??"

Today... today, my spine bent to nearly breaking with the combination of her pressure and my big belly. Today, I sighed. Today, my answer changed. Several times. "Yes, I want to know.... no! Wait, not really." "But at least then I would know what color blanket to get... but, no."

Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

She giggled like a school girl and asked if I would like the answer in an envelope.

"Yes!"

She pumped her fist and ran from the room!!!

I giggled, too.

She and her office cohorts took much glee in secretly talking in lingo that I didn't understand, but that they have obviously long since perfected in order to drive those around them to the brink of insanity.

I giggled and grinned and stood there with my heart flip-flopping about in my chest.

I made my next appointment.

And then I turned back around to see my doctor shrouding the truth of my precious unborn child's gender between several sheets of paper. Folding them over and then holding it up to the window to be sure I couldn't see through. At last satisfied, she stuffed the information into an envelope and licked it closed.

Then she used fifty-eleven rolls of tape to secure it with.

I kid you not. The nursing staff all stopped what they were doing as my beloved doctor danced her way to me and presented me with this envelope with all the pomp and circumstance of a knighting ceremony.

And I giggled.

I took the envelope and tucked it into my day-planner.

It's still there. But here is the proof that I haven't opened it yet. I realize it's hard to tell, but have I mentioned the loss of our camera yet? My iPhone just isn't cutting it for this shot...

That dark rectangle is the envelope held in front of the screen before this post is published.

Forget the guitar case and the text books....I was trying to show you the massive amounts of tape on this thing!

What do y'all think? Should I open it? Or should I let the entertainment continue?