The kidlet has just passed 11 weeks.
That's half way between the previously infamous 12 week mark, and the 'new 12 weeks' of 10 weeks. Appropriately, some things people have said to me lately have gotten me thinking.
An email came from a friend mentioning how nervous I must be in these early pregnancy stages, and a comment was left here from someone who said that I would have a lot of fun with this kid because I already am having fun with them.
I'm not nervous. There is always a moment of anxiousness just before a scan or check up, but on the whole I'm not worried at all about the pregnancy.
Maybe I should be, this could be naivety, perhaps this is some sort of denial state I'm in, but I really don't think so.
I'm certain everything will be okay now. I've no proof or evidence, and my psychic abilities are somewhat underdeveloped, but I just know. That's why I'm not nervous.
It's not a matter of 'ifs' or 'someday' anymore, it's a matter of when.
I know that this kid is going to arrive safe and well, and we'll know it. We'll recognise it. (The obviousness of it dangling from my wife's cavern of carnal delights aside of course.)
We don't know what colour hair it will have, if any. We don't know if it will have all its toes or an extra ear growing from its belly, but we will know it.
We'll know it as the kid that has kept us going for two years. The kid who shook me out of sulks and reminded me to look after ET during month after month of failures. It's the same kid who inspired silly writing and jokes when all I wanted to do was switch off and just walk away.
This kid pulled both our hands together, reminding us why we were doing what we were.
So no, I'm not nervous, I'm excited at the thought of finally getting to meet in the flesh, someone who has already done so much for us. Someone we're already familiar with after years of ups and downs.
Someone we've already known for a long, long time.
A brand new old friend.