This past weekend, my mom came into town...wait for it...are you ready?...100% alone and #4-free! I cannot tell you what a cause for rejoicing this was for me. Originally, he was going to posion the visit...ahem...join her, as he always does, but at the last minute decided, much to my absolute shock and pleasure, to stay at home and stain his deck. Alleluia!

So my mom arrived solo on Friday night, and we spent a wonderfully blissful and incident-free weekend together. She was relaxed. She was happy. She wasn't having to constantly worry about him, whether he was bored or thirsty of hungry (you'd think I was talking about a three-year old here), and she wasn't constantly on guard against the inappropriate garbage that spews out of his mouth on a regular basis. It was heaven. And the best part is, she envisions more solo trips in the future because dear #4 is not a "kid person." I knew spending the equivalent of a new car on fertility treatments for the past two years was worth its weight in gold, I just didn't know that it would produce two miracles!

My mom and I took my grandma and great aunt to see the crib and dresser my mom ordered for us a few weeks ago, then on to Babies R Us (or as I fondly call it, Babies R Ugh-that store is a confusing labrinyth of paraphanalia) and then the four of us went out to lunch. It was quite neat, actually, when my mom mentioned that there were four generations together on Saturday: my grandma and great aunt's generation, my mom's, mine, and of course, the Beastie's. My dear grandma ordered the Beastie a changing table for the downstairs portion of our house (because trekking up a big flight of stairs after a C-section is not something I want to attempt right away). My mom got us the changing pad for the changing table and a mattress pad. She has bought so much baby swag for us, and I feel so grateful. And with each purchase (dear G-O-D is baby crap expensive) it's becoming more and more real to me that we are actually having a baby. I honestly feel as if I have won the lottery somedays, because we've been given something I know not every couple who has gone through IVF is blessed with. And not a day goes by when I'm not grateful for it.

Saturday afternoon, my aunt's friend's daughter (follow that?), who is an ultrasound technician, snuck me in for another glimpse of the Beastie. And holy cow, has this baby grown in the last four weeks since my last ultrasound. So my mom, Rich, my aunt, her friend, and her daughter, the tech, watched Beastie for 15 minutes (all recorded on tape of course) yawn, stick his/her tongue out, play peek-a-boo, and confound all of us trying (but not trying at the same time) to get a glimpse of his/her identifying parts. I still think Beastie is a boy and have thought this since almost the beginning. Based on yesterday's ultrasound, Rich thinks Beastie is a girl. My mom wants Beastie to be a girl so badly, she's virtually drooling pink.

And the best part of the ultrasound was that the tech accidentally left the microphone on the entire time, so throughout the whole ultrasound, we can hear our voices commenting and talking to Beastie, which will be a lovely little momento to pull out at his/her 18th birthday party. No pictures, though, since those would record in the computer, and since this was an "after-hours, secret scan," that wouldn't go over too well.

Yesterday, we finally cleaned out the "baby's room" (I can't believe I'm typing these words). It had been our catch-all room for years, full of bookshelves, books, boxes, a seldom-used espresso maker, etc. And soon Rich and my great aunt will paint it. And in about a month the furniture will arrive. And then, Beastie will make an appearance at the end of the summer.

Pinch me. I need to wake up.