Wonder of Ritual

Today I went through a ritual of prenatal care. The best ritual that demands pants to be dropped to the pubic bone and warm jelly spread all over your belly. The ritual where we get to see our little girl.

The last time we saw her face, it was shrouded with slight concern. She's small, they said, 12th percentile. We don't consider it abnormal until you go below 10, but just be aware, she's small.

What does that mean?

If this was my first child I would have panicked. Time has proven to us again and again though, that medical opinion is just that in these matters. Opinion and guessing. They are using a machine to see through layers of fat and muscle and assorted insides. It was that same opinion that declared Gracie to have a huge head that may necessitate a c-section. Not that anyone would ever request to see my belly, but there is no scar.

Today's appointment showed her right on track at 2.13 lbs and in the low 20th percentile. Perfect.

And guess what? She has her daddy's nose.

Grace has Matt's coloring and my face. Will this little one have my coloring and Matt's face?