By which I mean the "fear of becoming a parent."

That fear I've mentioned here and there?

It's sort of...gone.

Not completely; it still nibbles around the edges every so often...but that sense of helplessness that comes from Not Knowing is getting less and less with every passing day. I still don't know how we'll be able to pay for everything we want to be able to pay for, or whether our apartment will have enough space for all these living creatures, or how, exactly, you keep babies happy and entertained all day long, or whether I should buy one stupid stroller instead of another, but a lot of that initial confusion and nervousness stemmed from the sheer enormity of what was unknown.

The other day we went in for our 20-week anatomy ultrasound...and I skipped ahead in school.

Let me explain:

Ever since our very first ultrasound at 6 weeks, the technicians have been all, "Huhhh...are you suuuuure about that date?" (Yes.) It seems that Indiana (his For Internet Purposes name) is something of an overachiever, and has been ahead of the curve, development-wise, since takeoff. But then at our last ultrasound, the technician didn't just sort of casually remark upon his size...she flat-out told us that he was verging on record-breakingly enormous (but not dangerously so, no worries). Like, over a pound at a point in time when he's supposed to be about 9 ounces (which is a big deal in Baby-Growth World).

This proclamation was followed by: