Right up there with pictures of unlikely animal friendships -- the monkey hugging the dog, the rat cuddling with the kitten, those sorts -- in heart melting factor, is watching your significant other pick out clothing for your unborn child. Among others, Eugenio chose a onesie that says, "Daddy's little girl." It's so bizarre, these teeny-tiny outfits hanging in our closet.

We were wrong. It's a girl. Eugenio didn't pick that onesie because he thought it'd look great on Nikolai. Speaking of which, I can stop antagonizing Eugenio by referring to the carrot length babe inside of me -- this week at least, I don't know what vegetable she'll be compared to next -- by the name he hates. Leading up to the anatomy scan last week, I kept telling everyone that now that we've been referring to it as "he" and telling everyone we think it's a boy, it would be perfect to learn that it's actually not. And lo and behold...

We didn't have any preference either way, but I'm surprised by my reaction. I cried silently to myself after the ultrasound tech announced the gender and we saw for ourselves that it was unmistakeably female. My sister Molly says she doesn't believe it, adding that our mother put a curse on all of us. She would always say, "In my next life, I'm having all boys." My niece was the only one vocal about a gender preference. She's been wanting a girl cousin for years. When I first brought Eugenio to meet my family about four years ago, the first thing she said, just breaking the ice, was, "Are you two going to have kids? I really want another cousin," by which she meant of the female variety as she was surrounded by boys. I'm not interested in all the gender reveal parties and announcements that are popular now, but I did announce over Facebook by telling Brit I was happy to announce she was finally getting that girl cousin.