The mojo is gone.

I have what I like to call "pregnancy intuition". I'm very in tune with myself, the growing baby, what they may or may not need for/during/after the birth....so on and so forth. A few examples:

• When the technician told me PG was a girl, I was all "Yeah, that's wrong, it's a boy." and I made her recheck a few times. 
• Another example: I was adamant that I deliver PG in a hospital that had an excellent NICU. Good thing.....
• I knew 100% Ells was a girl around 10 weeks. Dave didn't believe me. HA! Bwahaha. Silly Dave. The technician was on her game that time though. Lucky for her....

Note: It's not "mother's intuition" by any means. My brain seems to shut down the moment the baby is delivered. It slowly reignites over the passing months...slowly, so slowly.  It's similar to a condition I used to suffer from during school. Dave referred to it as "summer stupidity". As soon as school was out for the summer I'd forget words like "seat belt" and "refrigerator" and would have to rely on elaborate hand gestures to communicate.

Me: "You know that thing, motioning across my body, that straps you in a car....."
Dave: "Uh, a seat belt?"
Me: "Yeah! Put it on!"

I fear motherhood is a permanent state of "summer stupidity". I digress.

Anywho - apparently, my pregnancy intuition is off (what do I blame? Pregnancy. HA.) because I was 100% sure #3 was a boy. In fact, I asked the technician if she could check again....twice. She asked, "do you want a boy?" I replied, "I don't care, I have one of each, I was just sure it was a boy."

Whelp #3 is indeed a GIRL. And instead of showing you the ultrasound evidence (because that's weird people...it is),  here is a pic of her cute profile sucking away on her thumb. Oh and the cardiologist said her heart is good to go.

So here's to sisters (I don't have any, so good luck girls). It's going to be a pleasant 18 years me thinks, without a lick of drama. Because that's what sisters are all about.