Today I’m 17 weeks pregnant… I think.
I’ve started wondering if there’s a chance that when I see my doctor next week she’ll just say I’m having a big baby and that my due date/weekly progression hasn’t actually changed. While the ultrasound technician said to go by my new due date, I know my doctor could say something different at my next check-up. All in all it doesn’t really matter – most babies aren’t even born on their due date. Now that I’m pregnant though, each week seems like a HUGE milestone, so I really like counting them just right.
Another reason I’m thinking that my baby might be jumbo is because, well…
I was a chub. I weighed just over 10 pounds when I was born. Yowzers. Emphasis on the “ow.” And to top it all off, my mom gave birth to me completely naturally. She likes to remind me that she didn’t have so much as a Tylenol. Just to let everyone know, as grateful as I am, I will not be following in her footsteps.
My dad actually wrote about my birth experience for an old Memphis paper called the Dixie Flyer. For this, I am also grateful. It captures my debut in such a raw, sweet way. I hope one day I can do the same for my baby girl.
(click images for larger view)
