eight weeks to go. maybe.
at the check up today, the midwife measured the belly. my wife is a thin woman, narrow. she's well proportioned. and she's a gorgeous pregnant knockout -- skinny all over and one big bump. weirdly people have been asking her for the past month if she's either A) due any day now or B) having twins. people are idiots. if her belly were any smaller, people would be asking her whether the baby was ok. or if she was eating enough. like i said, people are idiots.
so we grease up the belly, and listen to the thwack-thwack heartbeat. bless. mama gets weighed and measured. like a steer. i ask the midwife if there's any way to tell how big the kid is. she says she guesses five, five-and-a-quarter pounds. totally normal for 32 weeks. good.
then she tells us to come back every two weeks and adds, offhand, that the baby will probably increase in weight by a half-pound a week from here on out. we nod as we put on our coats. then pause. we do the math.
that's four pounds in eight weeks.
that adds up to a nine pound baby. at least.
remember how i mentioned that the wife is a narrow little lady? First Born clocked in at 6 pounds, 11 ounces. that's south of seven pounds ... of blazing crotchfire agony and bloody torn crotchflesh. three more pounds will split the poor woman open.
which made us pause again. the fucking baby. she's going to come early, isn't she?