It's my birthday today (I'm 32), and I just got the best present ever. Every two weeks, the doctors do a growth scan of the babies, which gives us an estimate of their individual weights. The last time they were measured, each baby was barely more than four pounds. We want them to gain as much as possible so they can avoid time in the NICU; babies less than five pounds are often automatically sent there. So my hope for today was that they'd break the five-pound mark. But the ultrasound technician delivered different news: Baby A is 5 pounds, 10 ounces, and Baby B is six pounds! Six pounds! I cry with pride and relief. The ultrasound technician, Beulah, an angel to me now, congratulates me.
I congratulate myself, too. I'm carrying nearly 12 pounds of baby inside me! All those hamburgers paid off.