K is my second child, whom I thought FOR SURE the entire time I was pregnant was a girl. We had our big ultrasound and they said, "it might be a boy, but don't paint any rooms." My next appointment my doc brought in the portable ultrasound. "I think it's a girl, but don't paint any rooms." I figured the third time we tried to look, either 3 strikes and we're done looking, or we'd get a good look. It was the 3 strikes.
I was still fairly certain that I was having another girl. Which would have worked out perfectly, clothes-wise, since M was also born in July. (My kids were born July 22 and 29, 2 years and 1 week apart.)
When I went in for my scheduled c-section (purposely scheduled "late" in hopes that I might experience even a little bit of labor) I was 39 weeks and 6 days. The section went well with regard to the baby... "It's a BIG boy!" the doctor shouted! (Which made me immediately think "BIG? How big?" I'm thinking 10 pounder?) He was 8 lbs 6 oz. which was 1 lb. 3 oz. heavier than his sister.
Then I thought, "I don't know what to do with a boy!"
Then I met him, on the outside (of me). He was beautiful. I got to look at him as the medical team continued to repair my insides and put me back together. My section took almost 3 hours. The spinal was wearing off. K was out in 20 minutes.
He was so different from M from the start. M fought nursing so I ended up (insanely) pumping my milk for her for 6 months. K nursed. Immediately. Voraciously. It completely endeared me to him even though it hurt for the first 2-3 weeks at the first latch. I was so ridiculously happy to have a kid who would nurse, I endured the pain without much thought. I wanted my 2nd kid to nurse so badly that I took a class on nursing. I didn't think I learned anything I didn't already know, but just the confidence of telling the nurses to leave me alone helped. The few nurses that were present when K was feeding complimented my "technique." I was oddly proud since I was such a failure with M. (Although I now know that her personality dictated that she would not do anything she didn't want to do. And she didn't want to nurse. So there. Should have clued me in to her personality then...but I was a newbie.)
He's named after my maternal grandfather...so he sort-of has an "old man" name...but it's not that off-the-wall. His middle name is Craig's middle name, and his paternal grandfather's first name. My mom told me that she felt weird calling him her Dad's name at first, but then got used to it. One of my aunts seemed really moved by our decision to name K after my Grandpa (her Dad). Surprisingly, we had a pretty easy time picking his name. It just sounded "right" to us.
Last winter I saw a documentary on PBS. Don't know the name of it unfortunately, but it was a psyche show about a study done about boys. They put moms in a room alone with their babies. The mom was to spend a certain amount of time interacting with her baby as usual. Then, at the signal, she was to turn away, then turn back and be non-responsive, or stone-faced. The babies were all about 8 months old. The female babies just looked away from their moms, and comforted themselves. The boys were visibly distressed. They flailed their arms. They cried. They did everything to try to get Mom's attention back.
Moral of the study...Boys need their Moms more.
I'm pretty sure that almost all Moms want a girl. Because we know girls...after all...we are girls.
But now that I have a boy...I feel a bit sorry for those Moms who don't have a boy. Because they're really cool too.
And my boy is so handsome.