I was at my doctor’s appointment last week waiting for the doctor to come into the room. Sitting up on the patient bed, crinkly paper noting my every shift in movement, I studied the poster on the wall next to me. It took you through the process—from sperm and egg, step by step, to when the baby comes out. I had enough time to read through all the steps, and then I got to the end. And I gasped. I realized, as Juno says, “Pregnancy can often lead to an infant.” Oh my goodness. It dawned on me. At the end of this, there will be a baby. And not just any kind of baby. A newborn baby. A little lump of a thing. A crying, sleeping, pooping cute little lump.

With newborn Wally Ben, we had a rough start. Well, I shouldn’t say that. The first few days were pleasant. But then we brought him home, and he cried and cried and cried. For months. For four months. So when it comes to thinking about bringing home an infant, I am a bit apprehensive.

However, I have reason to believe that this one will be our good baby. Real, actual evidence. Scientifically proven. Here is my solid, medically backed up reasoning: When I was pregnant with Wally Ben, he was a powerful little kicker. He would kick, kick, kick, in the same spot, over and over. I remember sitting in meetings, and feeling like it was our little secret. Every time he kicked, I thought it was his little reminder that he was there. He was so happy in there, kicking away!

Fast forward to his first colicky day. He was on the changing table, crying. Then I noticed his little left leg. Kick, kick, kicking. And he did that little kick every time he cried. So he was even crying in the womb!

Vivi is not yet a kicker. Don’t get me wrong—she moves. She is just more of a roller. She takes her little feet and pushes along my stomach. The other night I was laying on my side, and my stomach looked like a scene from a scary alien body invasion movie. I’m surprised we didn’t see toes. This relaxed little rolling is my evidence. She will be good. I am willing her to be good.

But if she does turn out to be another colicky little monster, at least it’s not something we haven’t been through before. We survived. And we have all the tricks to prove it. She can cry her face off—she can cry our faces off—and we will make it.

Plus, it will be kind of sweet payback for Wally Ben. What’s that Wally? You don’t like her crying? That’s what you get! In yo’ face! Now you bounce her on this exercise ball for the next half hour shift.

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