“My nipples got hairy,” my mom offered. “During breast feeding, so that’s something to look forward to. Chest hair like a gorilla.”

What.

No.

“You’re lying.” I swung my gaze to Dr. Cardiff’s profile. “Tell me she’s lying?”

Dr. Cardiff shrugged. “Sorry to say, I can’t help you. It happens.”

“Oh, God, that’s balls.” My hands went to my boobs and gave them a preemptive sorry-little-buddies squeeze.

“Don’t swear,” Mormor said, flicking my ear. “It’s unladylike.”

My would-be brilliant retort about social expectations thrust on young women in the guise of words like ladylike fizzled when, up on the screen, appeared not a legume-slash-alien like my last ultrasound, but a real tiny human. With arms and legs. With eyes and a chin.

Oh, my God, the baby looks like a baby.

I stared.

“There they are,” Dr. Cardiff said, adjusting her teal glasses on her nose. She pointed at the screen, tracing the outline of my kid’s face with its bump of a nose and giant fivehead. Yeah, the kid got a big forehead, just like their mother, but no worries, I’d teach them an appropriate comb-over technique as soon as they had hair.

Hair like my sad stomach, and my soon-to-be sadder nipples.

“That is a Larssen,” Mormor said, nodding. “Look, the profile is just like yours, Astrid.”

“The poor kid,” Mom replied.

“Did we want to know the gender?” Dr. Cardiff asked, probably hoping to ward off another Larssen-fest.

“Uh, yeah.” Devi looked down at me with a huge grin. “This is so cool. You want to know, right? I mean, that’s why we’re here?” She squeezed my hand. I squeezed hers right back.

I nodded, breathless, and Dr. Cardiff grinned. “Looks like you’re a superfecta, ladies. It’s a girl.”

...a girl.

Wow, it’s a girl.

I hadn’t considered the gender thing too much, not beyond telling Mormor she couldn’t make colored cakes or give out cigars, but hearing that the kid was a girl was a relief. I knew how to girl. Sort of. And what I didn’t know, Aunt Devi did know. Or my mom knew. Or, God forbid, Mormor knew. And if it turned out none of the girl stuff was for my kid, when they had the wherewithal to determine their own gender, okay, cool. That gave me extra time to figure out how to bring up a boy or a nonbinary kid.

“Rad,” Devi said, stealing my word for her own. “That’s totally rad.”

“Yeah it is. Now Sara doesn’t have to worry about training a kid to not firehose the bathroom wall with urine.” Mom ruffled my hair before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Grats, kiddo. Let’s hope our periods don’t all sync up.”