This week, the fact that I’m having a baby has become SO MUCH more real to me. Smudge is all I feel like thinking about or talking about most of the time.

On my way in to work this morning, my commute was interrupted by an ambulance near Emory Hospital. As it turned in front of me, I saw that it was a Neo-Natal Emergency Vehicle from Grady, the local public hospital.

And I immediately burst into tears and started patting my belly reassuringly.

I’ve also started playing our wedding CD for Smudge, by tucking the earphones for my iPod into my waistband. I feel insanely silly doing it, AND YET, I’M STILL DOING IT. My excuse is that I read on Pregnancy.org that by week 20, the baby can hear and:

Familiar voices, music, and sounds that baby becomes accustomed to during her development stages often are calming after birth.

So I’m hoping for a baby boy who will calm down to the dulcet tones of Beyonce’s "Bootylicious" and No Doubt’s "Hella Good"? At least it also includes James Taylor’s "Your Smiling Face" — which seems much more appropriate.

Marbles? What marbles? I think they’re lost.