I went to the doctor yesterday for my weekly appointment. These consist of me demonstrating all of my amazing preggo tricks- peeing on command, stepping on a scale triumphantly ignoring my weight gain, sitting for blood pressure tests. All pretty standard.
Then, the doc "weighed" the baby. This is done by pressing on my belly and feeling how much room the baby takes up and using Jedi skills to interpret how big the child is. He did his poking around, then says to me...
doc: so, how big were you when you were born, again?
me: seven pounds, four ounces.
doc: hmmm... what about your sister? (my doc delivered me/is a family friend, so he's known Kim for a long time, too)
me: she was over nine pounds.
doc: well. I'll tell you, she's weighing in the early 7s right now and you still have a bit to go.
me: what?
doc: yeah, seven pounds. Now, I don't know anything, but if I did... I'd wager that she's going to be in the high 8s by the time she shows up.
me: whoa. well, I'm a big girl, so I don't think that should be a problem.
doc: brooke, you can play on my team any day.
So yes, our gal is big. She is big and strong and is gonna be one big baby when she gets here. Which rules...
Although... I think I need to invest in more 3-6 month clothing :)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment