Isn’t he beautiful? On Wednesday we walked a hundred miles, pounding the streets of the greater DC area until they cried in submission. Sukie even did that funky “walk with one foot up on the curb and one on the street” move for a good part of it, causing lawn guys to raise an expressive eyebrow. Nothing.
Then Thursday, the ultrasound to be sure everything was okay. “This baby is 9 pounds 6 ounces!” the tech announced. Hmph. How could they even know that. Why do they want to ratchet up the anxiety? What, no decimal points out to the thousandth of an ounce? Can’t we put it in metric terms and be really precise??
The radiologist was more circumspect, or at least, less specific. “That’s a big baby. My wish for you is that you walk out of here and go into labor!”
And reader, she did!
I knew things were serious later that afternoon when she couldn’t play any more Bananagrams.
Born in the wee hours of the Feast of the Sacred Heart, not to mention St. Cyril of Alexandria, this little guy (aka Fred or Freddie) is indeed a lusty fellow, weighing in at 9 pounds and 2 ounces. (Okay, tech lady, you win.) Yikes.
“That’s a lot of baby,” as a friend remarked. Yes, yes it is, when you consider what a petite little thing Sukie is! But she’s a petite little trouper. The Quack was an amazing coach. I am in awe of my son and my sons-in-law for their confident and impressive support (in that they take after the Chief, I must say!).
All is well! God is good!