Hello again, my beautiful Nugget!
I’m writing this at 3am – yesterday’s entry was around the same time, but I hope I’ll break this habit soon.
I’m having a lot of the opposite of what I’m supposed to be at the moment – I don’t have a trace of morning sickness; apart from Wednesday I haven’t been fatigued at all… I’m quite liking this so far!
Your name, until yesterday, had been chosen as either Paige or Michael. But yesterday I told your dad that I’d kinda gone off both names. I don’t really like the name Michael, we had only decided on that (about two years ago) to fit our nickname “Mikey” – Like Michelangelo of the Ninja Turtles. But I’m not a fan anymore. Paige, on the other hand, it killed me to turn down. But Paige Reid? You’d be laughed at at school, and it really wouldn’t suit an adult. I started a list today of names I like, and when I showed you daddy, he said he liked most of them. So today your name’s either Ryan or Baylee( maybe we should spell it Bailey?)
Your middle name has already been chosen, no matter what gender you are. If you’re a girl, you’ll have my name as a middle name. That’s because my nan and my mum both named their daughters with their own names for middles. If you’re a boy, you’ll have a “J” name as your middle name, carrying on your daddy’s tradition – he, his father, and his grandfather all had middle names starting with “J.” We decided a while ago on Julian, but I’ve gone off that – there was a mass murderer named Julian something a few years ago and I still connect it to that. Jules? Joshua? Ah, I don’t know!
Made my first proper appointment today – our ultrasound to see how big you are. It was complete coincidence, but I scheduled it for a day your daddy has off work! So we both get to see you, baby. I have to drink something like two litres of water beforehand, and I’m not allowed to use the toilet, so it’ll take all my strength not to pee myself when they smear that cold gel all over my belly. Give us a good picture quickly so I can get some relief, okay?
Right now, I don’t know why, but I’m getting the feeling you’re a boy. I keep accidently referring to you as “he” when your daddy and I are talking about you. I hope you’re a girl, actually. It was always my plan to have a girl, then a boy. Like me and your Uncles Gavin and Brent. But really, as long as you’re healthy, I’m happy. If you’re not healthy… well, we’ll deal with it, won’t we?
We’re having a hard time finding a house to live in at the moment, unfortunately it may come down to selling our dog, Angel. But then again it might be us. Either people don’t like dogs, or they think that two 23 year olds are too immature to rent a house. They just don’t know us. We’re different to those other idiots out there. Yes, we’re immature at times in our humour or whatever, but we’re very serious about each other and you. We want you to have the best we can give you, and where we live right now is far from acceptable. It’s a dilapidated garage, converted into a granny flat. We have to keep Angel insode with us because the landlady doesn’t let us take her outside. I hate it with a passion.
