Being a high-risk pregnant mama makes you busy.
It also gives you a fun little window to peek through every month or so.
Not only do I have the standard once-every-four-week appointments with the baby doctor group, but each appointment is longer and more involved than that same appointment with Oliver. And, add to it that I’m a Stay-at-homer, I have to wrestle with my mom’s busy schedule to make sure that she is available to watch the Ollie while I’m tested and poked and prodded and listened to and whatnot.
Like, my last appointment, my 24-week appointment. With Ollie, it lasted maybe 20 minutes. Had he not been so dramatic in his appearance, I would probably be able to bring him along for all these doctor visits. Blood pressure taken, Doctor found the heartbeat, I was asked if I had any questions, and I’d be on my way. Easy-peasy.
With Little Brother here, I was gone for 2 1/2 hours. Yeah, no way I’m bringing Ollie along for a marathon appointment like that. I don’t want to make all the soon-to-be-moms in the waiting room wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into.
But I kinda love that, the detail work that’s happening this time.
Starting with this last appointment, we are getting into that scary time when things starting going downhill for Ollie, and my doctor group really wants to keep a close eye on my insides to make sure we’re not heading down any slippery slopes.
So I get an ultrasound every four weeks. They check for growth patterns and blood flow and movement and fluid levels all the things that Little Brother should be doing.
And he’s passing all his tasks wonderfully.
And he still has his boy-parts.
And, he’s apparently tall.
While the ultrasound tech was measuring him, she asked where he landed on the size charts last time. He was either at the 49th percentile or the 51st percentile, I couldn’t remember. But she’s looking at his head and hmmmm’s, and then she measured his belly and hmmmmm’d some more, and then she measured his femur bone length and finally asked:
“Is there anyone in the family who is exceptionally tall?”
I guffawed so hard, Little Brother danced around on the screen.
"Uh, yeah. His dad is 6′ 7″.
“ooooooohhhhhh! (laughs) That explains it, then!”
She was concerned about Little Brother’s size, he’s measuring about a week-and-a-half ahead. At 23-nearly-24 weeks, he’s measuring at a 25-weeker. And in the 91st percentile for size. And, so much for being “Little Brother,” at 1 pound, 11 ounces, his weight is already estimated to be more than Ollie at birth.
It’s hard to imagine a baby being 1 pound, 11 ounces and that’s bigger than Ollie.
Big doesn’t equal bad, though. At least not yet. It could be that, with my blood thinners and everything in good working order, I just grow big babies, or it could be that we caught him in the middle of a growth spurt and next time he’ll be back in the middle percentile. Next appointment, I get tested for gestational diabetes, which would suck to have developed, but that can be a reason for a baby’s bigness.
Either way, I may have been here before in terms of weeks-along, but I’ve never carried a baby this size before. We’re in our no-man’s-land again; I feel like a first timer.
Hard to believe that I’m already as far along as I am. And every appointment is so reassuring that I can grow healthy babies, I just need a little help. As we get further along into the pregnancy, my fears of having another micro-preemie are starting to fade and are being replaced by excitement to meet Little Brother.
At the end of 40 weeks, though, he may be the size of a toddler.