When she found out I was pregnant, my very sweet friend Erika gave me something called the Pregnancy Countdown Book. It gives you all these little tips and information for each day of your pregnancy and counts down how many days you have left. This book refers to pregnancy as "Pregnancy Land." Lately this seems like an appropriate reference, since every day of my life feels like a trip to a foreign country where I don't speak the language. A few examples:

One of the newest and strangest pregnancy symptoms I've developed is that I have the weirdest dreams of my life almost every night. They're very vivid, and while they're not necessarily bad, many of them are stressful in that weird way where you're constantly trying to tell people something very important and they don't understand you. Then I wake up and think about it for a while before going back to sleep and having another bizarre dream.

Speaking of sleep, I have been dutifully trying to do what all the pregnancy books say is the best thing for the baby's circulation and sleep on my left side. Of course, as all the books say, the worst way to sleep is on your back because it constricts circulation. So how do I keep waking up, for the first time in my whole life? On my back! I don't even like to sleep on my back, so I think it's purely psychological. The What to Expect people would not be impressed.

Meanwhile, I'm starting to wonder about this alleged "glow" that pregnant women get. Frankly, I think it's a lie. I don't feel "glowing." At all. It probably didn't help that for the last week, I have spent at least a half hour every morning trying to assemble some sort of outfit for work that featured pants I could still button and a shirt that at least sort of matched. So this weekend, tired of feeling unattractive and uncomfortable, I finally bought some maternity pants for work. With the critical need taken care of, Dan and I decided to drop by an official maternity clothing store where they have the strap-on pregnant stomach decoys and everything. Even that was kind of overwhelming because I couldn't figure out which way was up on the fake tummy, which made me feel like I was being outsmarted by a pillow with two velcro straps attached to it. Also, everything I tried on seemed enormous, but I know that it will actually fit sometime in the next five months. That is kind of frightening. I didn't buy anything and I left feeling freaked out.

But then on Sunday night, something happened that made all the weirdness of Pregnancy Land worth it. I felt the baby move! Dan and I were sitting on the couch watching TV, and all the sudden it was like there was a little ping pong ball rolling around in there. It was the strangest thing I've ever felt in my life. Since then, it's happened a couple more times, and it makes me so happy because it reminds me that even though I am pretty much clumsily stumbling my way through this pregnancy like the amateur that I am, I still get a baby out of it like everyone else. Most importantly, that's our baby in there spinning around. And that's just the coolest thing ever.

Off to bed now. Time to visit Pregnant Dream Land and see what's in store.

On Saturday, Dan and I had a two-hour sit down with our calendar to try to schedule a bunch of things that need to happen this summer before the baby comes. Among those things are some kitchen renovations we've been putting off, some traveling I'd like to do before that gets too complicated, some family visiting us here in Albuquerque, and somewhere in there the fact that we need to take a six week childbirth preparation class.

It was not an easy task, because every time we'd get one things seemingly settled, it would be come apparent that our most recent decision conflicted with some other aspect of the List of Things to Do. But at the end, we'd gotten it straightened out, down to filling out a form signing us up for the childbirth class we chose, putting it in the envelope and putting the stamp on. Before I sealed the envelope however, I glanced back at the informational packet my doctor's office had given me and noticed that in addition to the childbirth prep course, they also recommend an infant care and safety course and a breastfeeding course.

We were so fried after the process of trying to find a six-week period of time when we could take the first class, that I almost didn't even mention this new information to Dan. But we were there anyway, so I asked how he felt about the infant care course, and brought up the breastfeeding course as well.

I mentioned that the infant care course might be good, because I've heard they give you a plastic baby doll and have you practice things like bathing and diapering, but I could tell Dan's mind had shot right past the infant care course and was trying to compute the breastfeeding class concept.

"What are they going to teach you in a breastfeeding course?"
"Well, I don't know, but the class comes pretty well recommended, and it's only a couple of hours."
"Yeah, but I don't understand how a bunch of women are going to learn to nurse babies that they haven't had yet."

It's funny when you get to the point in your marriage when you can almost see thoughts forming in your spouse's mind. At that moment, an expression of imagination crossed Dan's face, and it became obvious to me that he was envisioning a group of women sitting in a circle, trying to nurse plastic baby dolls. The imaginative look is replaced by an expression of alarm, and then he snaps out of it and says:

"Yeah. I'm definitely not going to that class."

I guess I can see his point. I'm sure any man would not feel exactly at home with that discussion. But it makes me wonder what he thinks we're going to be talking about in the childbirth class. The stork?

Alright, folks. Tuesday is the big day. Well, not THE big day, but a big day, because it's the day we go in for the 20-weeks ultrasound. First and foremost this is a medical procedure to check on the health of the baby, so we'd appreciate your prayers for good pictures and good news from that. But it's also our first chance to find out if we have a little Boy Wachdorf or a little Girl Wachdorf in there. I am fairly confident that Dan will continue to refer to the baby as "Mo" in any case just because he's so attached to the name, but I for one am looking forward to referring to the baby by his or her true name once we know the gender.

What this means for you is that it's time to place your bets in the comments section about what gender baby you think we're having. Also feel free to explain the rationale behind your choice. I have heard some pretty great answers on this so far. My mom thinks we're having a boy because we know so many people who are having girls. My sister Hannah, in the most complex answer I've received to this question, thinks we are having a girl because she used to envision me as a good, strong, adequately tough mom for a boy, but since I've gotten married she apparently thinks I've softened around the edges and now have the appropriate maternal instincts to be a girl mom as well. (I think this is a good thing, but it could also mean she just thinks I'm getting weak in my old age.) Someone at my office swears I'm having a girl because my stomach is round and not pointed out much. Theories abound. Share yours if you have one, and those who guess correctly will be honored in some way on the blog. I don't think there will be door prizes, but we'll come up with some way to congratulate you on your baby-guessing wisdom.

The ultrasound is on Tuesday afternoon, and of course all the appropriate family members will have to be notified by phone first. But late Tuesday or early Wednesday, I promise you an answer, if the ultrasound is able to tell us the gender, and hopefully some pictures as well, since we've been told to bring a writable CD to the appointment.

Good luck on the guessing!

It is with great pride and joy that we show you the first photos of a little person we're told is a girl, our daughter, Kate.

Now you must drop what you're doing and agree with me that she is the prettiest 20-week-old fetus you ever saw, with the cutest hands. OK, since you agree, I will show you another adorable picture, a side view, with some nice, bony legs and arms:

The technician told us, and showed us her reasons for believing, that the baby is a girl. So that means her name is Kate, the name I've always had in my mind for a little girl. Dan is walking around the house now, making up songs with the phrase "Baby Kate" in them. I think he's excited.

What can you really say to sum up the experience of seeing your child for the first time? There just aren't words that do it justice. I am glad that our technician has probably seen a lot of women react to seeing their babies, and therefore didn't make me feel bad when I started crying, looking at the screen. It was just so amazing to see her little face and watch her move. This is how mind-altering it was: There was some really bad country music station playing in the room during the whole exam and I didn't even care. That indicates a major level of distraction for me. A level of distraction that I'm starting to think may last the rest of my life.

The Bible says that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" as God's creation, and while that's always visible in the mere fact of millions of human beings walking around on the planet, each one unique, I don't think I had really grasped the impact of those words until today. Because while I've certainly been doing my best to do the right things, eat well, and give my baby the best environment in which to be made, I know, now more than ever, that I didn't really have any control over things like how her arms grew, how her fingers were shaped, or how her heart started to beat. That's a miracle, and I didn't do it. I couldn't. Praise the Lord.

So since it is a girl, the spoils of victory and the bragging rights go to Aaron, Daniel, Hannah, Megan, and Kate P. Take a victory lap, guys. I am so glad I asked for y'all to tell me your reasons for your gender guesses, though, because that was some great reading! The two best answers from each camp, as far as how much they made me laugh, will be reprinted here:

From Joshua, fiancee of Dan's sister Hannah: "It will be a boy. If God was not willing to let the tribes of Israel die out, I trust he will not be willing for the tribe of Wachdorf to die out either."

And from Aaron, my brother: "Girl. Here's why: I have a theory that all men want their first born baby to be a boy. We just have too much masculine knowledge to pass on (at least if you are super manly like me). It would be a waste for it all to die with the father. So, here is my reasoning for why you are having a girl. I want you to have a boy, so I can have a nephew to start practicing teaching how to be a man. If I screw him up, who cares? It's not my kid. I also, like all men, want my first kid to be a boy. So, God will intervene and give you a girl, in order to teach me how great a little girl can be and prepare me for the chance of my first born not being a boy. Sorry if you don't like my theory. I can't help that the world revolves around me. It's a big responsibility. Honestly."

There you have it. Further proof that the world does, indeed, revolve around Aaron. Thank you all for caring so much about us and our little baby news. I leave you with one more picture: Baby Kate, as seen from the side, with a foot and hand curled up for added cuteness:

Today is mine and Dan's fourth wedding anniversary. Thursday is not a very romantic day for an anniversary celebration, since we both have to go to work. But still, we were lying in bed this morning talking about how it's been four years since we got married and marveling at how quickly that's gone by and how much our lives have changed and are getting ready to change again.

One of Dan's ways to tell me he loves me is to say "I think you're pretty great. We should get married." And my part of the routine is to say "Wait, we already did that!" It's stupid, but it always makes me smile and think about how glad I am that we "already did that."

So today, we're celebrating something we already did and looking forward to doing all the things we haven't done and the many years we hope and believe are yet to come. I love you, Dan. Happy anniversary.

The last couple of weeks have been full of pregnancy milestones. Obviously, there was the sonogram. Then there was the passage of the 20 week marker, halfway through the pregnancy. But perhaps the most dramatic change in terms of how our lives work has been the arrival of the Pregnant Appetite. It is a force to be reckoned with.

I had read about how pregnant women develop pretty hearty appetites. But for me, the entire first trimester was just about trying to keep food down, and the early second trimester, after the nausea subsided, was mostly about remembering that I like to eat. I ate, but I didn't feel any extraordinary hunger.

And then, about 10 days ago, that changed. Pre-pregnancy, I have had the bad habit of failing to pack a lunch when I go to work, which sometimes resulted in me just skipping lunch entirely. Since that's not acceptable when you're pregnant, I've gotten into the good habit of taking a bag full of fruit and healthy snacks with me to work, along with milk and cereal and something for lunch. Usually, I don't finish it all. But one day last week, after going to the grocery store, I packed a particularly enormous bag of food for a day. I even showed it to Dan, I felt so silly for putting so much food in it. I figured it would take me three days to go through all that food.

Except that I ate it all. In one day. Every single last bit of it. And I was hungry when I got home. I thought this was a fluke, but then the next day, it happened again. Now I am pretty much packing the Jumbo Bag o' Food every morning, and having absolutely no trouble plowing through it as the day goes on. I have never been hungry like this in my life. It's actually kind of frightening, and it's starting to make me think that pregnant women should have some kind of safety labeling. Something along the lines of "WARNING: This woman is pregnant. If she asks you for food, give it to here immediately and then back away slowly."

I started thinking about the labeling concept last week when I almost threw a butter knife at a waiter who was failing to bring me my soup in a timely fashion. Dan and I went out to eat one day last weekend, and I was pretty hungry because through a long series of events, I hadn't eaten in about 12 hours, which is fine for a normal person, but not fine for people whose bodies are being run by alien forces with a constant need for sustenance. As soon as we sat down, I asked the waiter if he could bring me a bowl of soup, because I knew I was never going to survive the wait until we could get entrees. And he said yes. This turned out to be an outright lie.

Unfortunately, from where I was sitting, I could see orders of food being put up in the window to be served. My soup was up about four minutes after I ordered it. But our waiter didn't see it. He was taking orders at other tables, getting drinks, and just generally behaving in a totally diligent manner except for the fact that I STILL DIDN'T HAVE ANY SOUP. For the next 20 minutes, I looked at the bowl of soup, then at our waiter, then back to the soup, trying to will the waiter to go get my soup before I made a total scene. Dan's efforts to distract me and tell me that my muttered threats were probably a teensy bit irrational were in vain. I was completely fixated. Obsessed. About to come unglued.

In the end, the waiter did completely forget my soup. The only time he even paused at our table after taking our orders was to bring us our entrees. And still not my soup. At that point I was so relieved to see food that I just pointed out to him in what I think was a decently civil tone that he had forgotten about my soup and should just cancel that part of my order. Then I turned my attention to the woodfired pizza I had ordered. It's not a small pizza, and I ate the whole thing and told Dan he couldn't have any of it. Then I went home and had a banana and a milk shake, and only then did I feel satisfied.

So if you find yourself sitting with me at dinner any time in the next few months, you might want to guard your plate, because I am no longer in control of myself. The baby is holding me hostage, and she might make me steal your food.