Back in 1989, I was as big as a house while carrying the first of the three children I would bear. Most every person I have ever spoken to has always said the same thing - 'Oh, I don't care whether it's a boy or a girl. As long as I have a healthy baby.' I was not at all embarrassed to admit that I was pinning all my hopes on having a boy. While I passed on having the ultrasound technician tell me what she thought I might be having, I spent every waking moment imagining a male infant, surrounded myself with blue objects and generally refused to entertain the idea of having a daughter. Having been raised in a household with 2 sisters, I had longed for a male sibling - but not just a brother, an older brother ... someone who would have protected me when I was little and then supplied me with friends of his that I could have dated when I was older. Mine was not an ordinary pregnancy; my last month of pregnancy was spent in bed under doctor's orders. I was bored to tears and counted the days to my due date. Kevin's father and I watched a lot of TV during that time and Kevin ended up being named after the main character on The Wonder Years.
Kevin made his way into the world a whole 8 days ahead of schedule, taking less than four hours to meet his adoring public. I don't think I slept much that first night in the hospital; I could not stop staring at his beautiful face; the way his little lips were pursed, how his long lashes rested on his round, pink cheeks. I am actually surprised that he managed to sleep, what with me running my fingers over his soft skin, stroking the little bit of hair he had on his head and touching his teeny ears over and over again.
A lot has happened in the 22 years since that evening. He is still beautiful but now he is also all the other things a parent would be proud of in a man. Kevin is living in town, working and has found a terrific young woman I am happy to consider as a friend.
