Editor's note: With the launch of Green Mondays in Island Life, About Men and About Women columns will now run on Tuesdays. Today, we introduce a new columnist: Andreas Arvman.

Everyone thought it was going to be a girl.

Even my grandmother, who had yet to meet my wife, was certain. "Is she carrying high?" Grandma asked over the phone. "In that case, yes, she's having a girl."

We opted not to find out the gender of our baby during the pregnancy, and I was the only one who thought our first child was going to be a boy. And when the moment finally came, under the sterile light in the delivery room when the doctor announced behind his green surgical mask, "It's a girl!" — I was secretly disappointed.

It took months before I could admit that to myself, and it was more than a year before I uttered the words out loud.

But it was true. I wanted a boy. I had so much to share, so much I wanted to teach my son. I wanted to take him tailgating at Aloha Stadium before football games and show him how to light the hibachi without using up all the lighter fluid. I wanted to teach him how to drive and make sure he always uses the blinkers before turning or changing lanes. I wanted to show him how to be a gentleman and treat women right.

My whole life I have accumulated all this manly wisdom. My whole life had been leading up to the moment when my heir finally arrived. And then the doctor, who apparently hadn't heard about my plans, comes out of left field and blocks the play. "It's a girl!"

As I held my daughter for the first time, in the midst of smiling nurses with their scrub caps and surgical masks, I was clinging to a thought I never saw coming for my first moments as a father: "I can't let it show that I'm disappointed."

Soon after that, before I had a chance to really analyze things any further, parenthood unleashed its assault on my wife and me. Everything that was normal and familiar was gone, replaced with a fascinating array of unknowns and a worry that something would happen that we wouldn't be able to handle.

At some point during these first months, she emerged. Our daughter. A baby girl who slept in my arms, who tried to lift her head when she heard my voice, who smiled at me when I sang to her. My daughter.

It's funny how these things work. Sometimes now, when I look at our baby girl, I think to myself, "How could I possibly have wanted a boy? What on earth was I thinking?"

My wife is expecting our second child. This time around, we opted to find out the gender in advance and I was genuinely happy to hear we were going to have another girl. Funny how these things work.

Now I want all girls. If we're lucky enough to have a third child, I'd be thrilled if that turns out to be another girl.

But now I also know how these things work. If we end up having a boy, I'll be looking at him one day and think to myself, "How could I possibly not have wanted a boy? What on earth was I thinking?"

Andreas Arvman is The Advertiser's Information Center digital editor. His daughter is 18 months and his wife is expecting their second child in about a month.

Reach Andreas Arvman at aarvman@honoluluadvertiser.com.