feeding claire

While it may not be easy to tell from the pictures I post, or maybe it’s completely obvious, but Claire is big. She’s always been big. When she was born she weighed in at 8 pounds 6 ounces and was 19 1/4″ long. Nice work for a first baby. I’m not big but Aaron is tall and was a very big baby. So big, in fact, that my MIL didn’t want to tell me how big he was when he was born for fear that I would run out and schedule a C-section. Yes, he was that big. But thank goodness for the epidural, because I don’t remember any more pain than one could have delivering a baby. After her first week or so when she was starting to get the hang of breastfeeding, well, she’s been climbing the growth charts ever since.

I’ve never minded. She’s proportionately big and just so darn cute. Ok, sometimes I’ve minded when I’m trying to carry her and something else or if I’ve been holding her for a long time. I minded when we had to go back for a second check-up to measure her head to make sure there wasn’t extra fluid in her brain. Once I explained the size of my husband’s head (we even measured before the appointment), they chalked it up to genetics for now – we still have to be mindful of its size for next check-up. But for the most part I’m used to her size and my biceps are thankful because they are now huge (my triceps, on the other hand, look like change purses – I guess I’ll have to work on that someday).

Her age often makes her a show stopper. Hooray for babies! My neighborhood is very friendly (the city is friendly in general, which is why I will always want to live in a city surrounded by other people) and people always stop and wave when I’m on the street. (She’s just now learning to wave back – sometimes.) I love when people stop to talk to Claire. She needs to learn that she’s part of a world much bigger than herself; feeding Claire doesn’t have to be just about food – but now I’m on a tangent…

A few weeks ago I was at the Italian market, a crowded street market that is always full of friendly people. Walking around with a stroller is often tight and it becomes quite an intimate experience. When I’m with Claire, I don’t have to move very far before I get stopped and stopped and stopped and stopped.

As I was making my way between stands, a woman stopped me and instead of saying ‘Hello!’ or waving to Claire, she says, “That is one BIG baby! How old is she?”

“Almost 9 months,” I say.

“What?!” (I’m pretty sure – if this it’s possible – I could hear both the question and exclamation point.) “Hey!” She’s now calling to her friend who is a few steps ahead, “come take a look at this big baby!”

I say nothing. These two strangers were just staring; but, I felt ready to defend my baby.

“Oh my!” says woman #2. “What are you feeding her?”

“Well, food,” I say. There was nothing else to say. It was a slightly unnerving – I was surprised at how defensive I felt, if only for a fleeting moment. Then we all laughed and continued down the market. If there’s one thing about Philadelphia, especially South Philly, it’s that you’ll never know who you’re going to meet and what they’re going to say and usually it’s exactly what’s on their minds.

I may be used to her size but most people aren’t. Now, at almost ten months, people often mistake her for being 12 or 15 months. There is always a look of surprise when I say her age. It’s usually followed by a look of relief considering she would be developmentally behind any 15 month old. I don’t mind this either. Someday she will be as old as the other kids at the playground and even now she has a ton of fun watching them.