size matters

I forgot to mention yesterday that the baby vegetable this week is the leek. The baby's length is comparable to a leek. That's about 19 and 1/2 inches, though the ones we have in the fridge are a little shorter. It's not exactly leek season in Minnesota.

A relative regularly asks me how big the baby is. I dodge this question, but I wonder about it. Is this something you're told if you go to an OB doctor? Do they try to estimate the size and weight of the baby while still in utero? I picture that going sort of like, "Well ma'am, everything looks good, you're coming along nicely. The baby is roughly 20 pounds and 4 feet long. But that's just a guess." Honestly, I have no interest in how big or long the baby is. If it's safe and still inside of me, I'm happy. While I will later marvel at the size, be it 6 pounds or 10, right now I have no interest in getting all worked up about something I can't control. Measurements seem like they're all just competition, and you can often hear parents of toddlers speaking of percentiles as if they were SAT scores. It's easy to get caught up in it, and I know I've repeated the percentile scores of my nephew more than once. As if the size of the little boy's head will later determine his lot in life.

For now, I don't know the size, don't know the sex, and don't know when the baby will be born. In this day and age, I feel like a pioneer - people are shocked that I don't know the sex, and more than once I've been asked how far past my due date I plan to, as if I'm making a dinner reservation. In my mind I always switch into a hippie/stoned voice, and say to these people "It's the miracle of birth man. You can't call ahead for a miracle."