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August 2015 / Bronx/​Riverdale Family / Brooklyn Family / Long Island Family / Manhattan Family / Queens Family / Staten Island Family / Columnists / Pregnancy / Raising Boys / Just Write Mom

Under the table and dreaming

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When I was pregnant for the first time, I just knew that my baby was a girl. We never found out beforehand, but when the doctor said, “It’s a girl!” I wasn’t shocked at all. With our second daughter, we skipped knowing the gender again, wanting to be surprised at birth. In the beginning, I had no idea, but towards the end, I was 99 percent sure she was a girl. Right again.

With our third child, I had no idea initially. This pregnancy was a little different. I was nauseous 24 hours a day, seven days a week after never having any morning sickness with my first two. Thoughts of boys were on my mind (even though the idea of actually raising a boy terrified me a bit). But I still wasn’t having any strong feeling either way, until one very ordinary day.

A few months into the pregnancy, I had just gotten off the subway and was on my way home. I was listening to a Dave Matthews Band song on my iPod, which I did nearly everyday on my commute home. I was enjoying a song that I had listened to about a million times before that day, “Ants Marching.” I thought nothing of it, and began mentally checking my to-do list as I took each step.

And then Dave sang the line:

“Goes to visit his mommy. She feeds him well, his concerns, he forgets them. And remembers being small. Playing under the table and dreaming.”

It stopped me in my tracks, literally. I slowed my pace and just smiled, wondering if what I was feeling was actually true. This baby was a boy. In that moment, I just knew it. I felt a certain warmness and happiness that I hadn’t experienced before. A few weeks after that day, a sonogram confirmed he was indeed, a boy.

It was one of the few magical times I’ve had as an adult. Of course, whenever I hear that song it takes me back to that very moment, crossing a quiet Brooklyn street knowing I was carrying my son. My boy is now 12 and a skilled and passionate guitar player. While he usually plays alternative and metal songs, he surprised me recently and began playing “Ants Marching,” knowing the full story behind that song. You know how you always think the best moments in life are the big ones? They’re really not. Sometimes they are a weekday afternoon when you are simply listening to the quiet strumming of a sweet boy who fills your heart.

Danielle Sullivan, a mom of three, has worked as a writer and editor in the parenting world for more than 10 years. Sullivan also writes about pets and parenting for Disney’s Babble.com. Find Sullivan on her blogs, Just Write Mom and Some Puppy To Love.

Updated 7:08 pm, October 28, 2016
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