I took Gracie to her 6-month check-up this afternoon, and after the nurse did the preliminary height and weight check, this is what I overheard just outside the door of the little room they stuck us in:
Doctor: This can't be right.
Nurse: But it is. I checked twice. Her mother helped me hold her still.
Doctor: But she can't be 74 cm tall. She's only 6 months old.
Nurse: You can measure her again yourself, but she's 74 cm tall.
Doctor: Then I guess the weight must be right too. 9.43 kg? That's over the 100th percentile. Holy crap, that's one big kid.
So apparently, my kid's bigger than your kid, and your kid, and your kid too. Not unhealthy -- the doctor said she's quite proportional -- just big.
And nobody is more surprised than me. For those of you who don't know me in the flesh, I'm only 5'3" tall. So when I got pregnant I just assumed that I was going to have me a nice little 6 pound baby, because seriously, where would a bigger baby than that fit? And even when presented with ultrasound results that told me Gracie was at least 7 pounds and probably more, I didn't really believe it. Induce me today? But it's only my due date! Let's not be hasty. If Gracie doesn't really want to come out, then I don't think we should force her just yet…
Then a week later, when they told me I shouldn't wait any longer and made me come in for an induction, I still didn't really believe the baby could be that big. When asked if I wanted some morphine or an epidural, I naively said no, I thought that I could probably get by just fine with some of that nice laughing gas I had read about. And I did get by just fine -- until my giant baby got stuck and they had to do some nasty things to get her out. FYI, laughing gas is NOT effective when they need to reach in and rip out a baby who is going into distress. I won't go into details, but when all was said and done, Gracie's collarbone was broken and I didn't walk so well for quite awhile…
Where was I? Oh yes - my big baby weighed in at a whopping 8 pounds, 10.75 ounces, and she's been big ever since. At this rate, she's going to outgrow me sometime next year. And that's just fine with me. Maybe she will grow up to be one of those lucky ladies who doesn't have to shop in the petites section. Sigh…a mother can dream, can't she?