What a difference a Dad makes

I'm not sure why but I seem to have, in my previous life, attracted a lot of men who were pretty oogied out by the pregnancy process. Yes, that's the scientific description, oogied. As in to oogy. Of course.

Tom probably felt Kylie move around once or twice. He was more fascinated with WATCHING her move inside me. She was a very strong kicker and he would get hours of entertainment watching her kick things off my belly while I was laying down. Things like remote controls, glasses of water, plates, furry animals and a VW Bug. She was, as I said, very strong.

Brian, on the other hand, was completely grossed out by all things pregnancy. He would not hesitate to "moo" at me while I was pregnant, despite gaining only 25lbs that pregnancy. I don't believe he ever felt the baby move on purpose. He might have accidentally brushed up against my belly once and the baby moved but I can't be sure. He told me he pretty much thought that was gross. Luckily, Lulu was not such an involved kicker. She was much more mellow and generally lazy when it came to kicking. She would just rather not. We had to go to the hospital once because she apparently fell asleep for 2 days while in utereo and moved not once. No orange juice, no sugar, no nothing would wake that child up.

Last night I was laying on the bed feeling my belly. As with my last pregnancy, this child seems concentrated on my left side which is where I feel more movement but also there is a discernible bump. Micah came in and I told him to feel my belly. He very gently started touching it, pushing a little bit at my urging to feel the difference between baby and no baby.

All of the sudden his eyes got big. Big like a child in a candy story. Which is not to say that my belly is a candy store. While the two may occasionally be in the same place at the same thing there is certainly a big difference. Lack of licorice is one of them.

He looks at me and says, "I felt that!"

Indeed, the baby had just expressed some displeasure at being pushed on and had kicked right where Micah's hand was. While I had felt it I had assumed he would not because, well, just because. Micah felt around a little more and then felt another couple of kicks and was hooked. Like a 3 yr old on chocolate, he could not get enough.

I asked him if he was grossed out. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, "That's my baby in there. That's my son." But with the tone of "Duh" behind it.

I'm not saying I cried. Because I didn't. But I can't help but think, what a difference a man makes. Not only for me, but for the baby too.

Now maybe I should work on getting some licorice in there.