photo by Punkylu78
A week or so before I was due I had an ultrasound. The baby's weight and head size were off the charts. The sonogramist (or whatever that person is called) estimated that my baby weighed about 12 pounds. That was kind of scary to hear, but I knew, in that way a mom knows things, that it wasn't true. I figured my baby would be about eight and a half pounds. I was close—she weighed 9 pounds, 3 ounces. I still think my guess was right—I attribute at least a pound of her weight to artificial bloating from all the saline my doctor pumped into me. I didn't realize what a big deal her weight was, or for that matter, what a big deal I was for having such a big baby.
Every time someone asked me how much my baby weighed when she was born and I told them, they'd say "Oh," with a tone of respect and admiration. And I noticed other moms who thought they had big babies would be a little disappointed when it turned out that my baby weighed more. So when a friend told me her baby weighed 10 pounds, 3 ounces at birth, I felt a little deflated.
It seems in the world of mommy wars, the size of one's baby is just another battle to be won (months spent breastfeeding, hours of sleep a night, and healthcare choices being others). But why the competition? Big or little, we've all won the prize.
Do you think having a big baby gives you bragging rights?