Tag Archives: My boy

Dreaming of a Baby Girl

I was reading how Maureen at Tatterscoops used to dream of pink bows, and it struck a chord with me.

Before I became pregnant and then when I found out I was, I dreamed of a baby girl. I couldn’t wait to get frilly dresses and cute outfits. I was thrilled about having a little girl to dress in those cute clothes.

I’m not really a girly-girl, but I was so thrilled about naming a baby after my mother, and baby girl clothes are just so freaking cute. And I do love pink. My husband (at the time) was a man’s man, and decided he’d be “cursed” with girls because of the way he treats women. But he started to get used to the idea.

When I went in to my sonogram, things weren’t really going well for me. My husband was doing everything he could think of to keep the marriage from failing, but everything he did pushed me further away. (Dude, seriously, when someone asks for space, don’t smother them MORE.)

I was on the sonogram table, naked from the waist down, already making plans to walk away from my marriage and pretty disgusted by my husband, and he’s stroking my (unshaven) legs and telling me I’m sexy. Not. Helpful.

And then we saw the sonogram.

I was thrilled to see my baby. Her heart was beating strong. Her hands were perfect. Her spine. Her penis.

Wait.

Her what?

Oh. We’re having a boy.

My eyes welled up. It was just one more thing going wrong.

We waited and waited for the printouts. I got dressed and started walking to my car.

On the way to my car, my husband calls me to tell me that his parents had invited us over for dinner. (Because he had immediately called them, of course.) I said no, but he could go. But he wanted to spend the evening with me (see above re: smothering).

I got to my car and I began to sob.

I texted a few people. The BFF, The Writer, and my good friend Sue. I said I knew I’d be OK in about 8 hours, but I needed to mourn the baby girl I’d expected.

Sue and I had a funny exchange about my second husband giving me a girl, which made me laugh. The Writer sent me some comforting words.

I was miserable…but within about 6 hours, I was over it. I was OK with having a boy, if not super excited.

I never really connected with Smiley while he was in the womb. He was always “the baby,” although other people used the name we had picked out. I couldn’t ever really use it.

But the minute I heard his cry in the delivery room, I fell in love. I couldn’t imagine not loving him.

And now, I can’t imagine my life any different.

I love him so much that at times my heart seems like it will burst.

When I found out I was having a boy, I had no idea what I would do with him. Boys are so “different.” So physical. But I find that I love the horseplay. I love rolling around on the floor and wrestling with him. I love chasing him and playing hide-and-seek. I love how he climbs all over me, and it’s wonderful to sneak in hugs and kisses while he’s doing that.

I’m learning about the differences between combines and tractors. (Sort of.) I’m learning about airplanes and fire engines and cars. What he’s excited about, I’ll learn about, to encourage him to learn.

And now, when I think about having another baby (one day, I hope), sure, I’d love to have a little girl, but my boy is so much fun, I would be perfectly happy with another one.

Man, I love that kid.

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I Had to Take a Cold Shower…

My commute kind of sucks. No, I take that back. My commute fucking sucks.

I try to pack whatever I need the night before, especially if I have to take blankets or diapers or whatever to daycare, and I set the dishwasher to run before I go to bed. (I have a small counter-top dishwasher, which is perfect for the two of us. It hooks up to the sink in the kitchen and uses the water from the faucet. You hook it up, turn the faucet on, and leave it.)

In the mornings when Smiley is with me, I set my alarm for way earlier than he usually wakes up, so I can shower and get myself ready before he wakes. (Although I don’t put on my work clothes until right before leaving the door–I learned my lesson in the spit-up days.)

This morning when I woke up I heard a weird noise. Sometimes the hot-water heater makes noises when it’s filling, but that didn’t make sense–the dishwasher should have finished hours ago. Besides…the noise wasn’t coming from the utility room, it was coming from the kitchen.

In a moment of realization, I dash into the kitchen, kicking one of Smiley’s toys in the process, making a total racket, and turn off the kitchen faucet, which has been running for hours. I can’t even imagine what that will cost me in my water bill. I check the dishwasher and there’s no error message and it looks like it ran but I can’t be sure.

By then it’s getting later, and I realize I need to get myself ready. So I jump in the shower. The freezing cold shower.

Shit. The faucet’s been running so long that the hot-water heater must have emptied. And I don’t have time to wait for it to heat back up, so I brace myself and take a quick cold shower. (What, you thought I needed to take it because of some other reason? ;) )

I’m thrilled to dry my hair, and I use the blow dryer on my feet, too.

I get ready…and…Smiley’s still asleep. Absolutely sound asleep. No signs of waking.

Now what?

I check my e-mail, Facebook, Twitter. Check to make sure Smiley’s breathing. Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit. It doesn’t seem right to wake him.

Oh! He lets out a cry! It stops as quickly as it started, but that must be a sign he’s waking!

I go and check on him. Nope. Phantom cry. He’s quiet and deeply sleeping. Hmm. What to do?

I gave in to my “oh my god, my baby’s growing up” urges and I picked him up and cuddled the heck out of him. He put his head on my shoulder and snuggled into me and just slept.

I was in heaven.

I rubbed his back. I put my cheek on his head and his soft hair tickled my face. I warmed up his perfect little feet. I admired his perfect tiny fingers. I tried to remember how small he used to be and how he fit into my arms even just a year ago, but there is only now. My perfect little boy and me.

I cuddled him until he woke, and the first thing he said upon waking was “tractor,” even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

I set the dishwasher to run during the day, hoping it doesn’t detach from the faucet again. The skies opened up and we got soaked getting to the car. Traffic was a mess. I was an hour late to work. But none of it mattered.

And the cold shower? Practically forgotten. I’m in love.