When I was pregnant with Ryan, not surprisingly, Herb had a new resurgence of pride. What man doesn't get a primal sense of accomplishment and feel the need to show off the physical evidence of his virility? And again, I was proud to be the trophy. I've never felt as sexy and feminine as I did when I was pregnant, which is pretty impressive considering that I was sick as a dog for 8 months. For a woman like me who has always had a boyish figure, having curves was a nice change, even if one of those curves was a big belly. So everywhere we went, Herb was again beaming at passers-by with a sense of pride.
But now that Ryan is here, we both love bathing in the attention that he gets. I love when we're at the mall and someone walks past the stroller then turns around to look at him and smiles or tells us how cute he is. I love when older ladies come over to coo and ask how old he is or what his name is. I love when fellow moms exclaim at his chubby cheeks or his sweet dimples. But I love most of all watching Herb's reaction to all this attention. He nearly busts his buttons with pride in his little boy. We brought Ryan to church when he was just two weeks old, and as several people were straining for a peek, when we reached our pew near the front, Herb turned and held up the car seat so everyone could see, and the whole congregation burst into applause. I don't think I've ever been more proud than I was at that moment.
And even now, at three months, a bit of the novelty has worn off but the pride is still there. Tonight Herb has invited us to drop in on a barbershop rehearsal he's attending. Partly it's to show off to us what he's doing, but mostly I think it's to show us off the his friends. So I already know what he'll be thinking when we walk in: "Yes sir, that's my baby!"