In the last few weeks of Felix's pregnancy, once I was allowed off of bedrest, Elliot and I would go for daily walks. Sometimes just down the street to sit on the steps outside of the coffee shop, snacking and watching traffic on the busy street. Or we'd walk around the block, this way or that way, before heading home for lunch and a nap.
I got into the habit of finding four leaf clovers on almost every walk. We'd bring them home and lay them flat between the pages of the phone book or something. Or they'd shrivel up, forgotten, on the counter or floor inside the front hall.
At this point, we didn't know if the baby was a boy or a girl, but we had pretty much decided on the name 'Felix' for a boy. We hadn't settled on anything for a girl, had a short list of favourites, but nothing decided. After my water broke at 30 weeks and somehow resealed, allowing me to make it to term (and longer) before he was born, I started researching names meaning "lucky".
The only name I could find was Felix. Or the feminine version, Felice. This pretty much cemented it in my hormonal brain that we were having a boy, since the name matched what we'd already picked out! And because I didn't like the feminine version.
I'm still finding four leaf clovers on our walks, this time with both boys in tow. Last weekend, we went to a park we hadn't been to before - we had a rental car so it allowed us a bit more freedom. Sure enough, walking across the grass, I spied this...
I carefully tried to save it, but it wilted instantly in the humidity. I carried it up to the top of the 10-story tower in the middle of the park and tossed it over the fenced-in edge. Where it caught on a wire and could still be hanging there, luckily, for all I know!