When Average Is Perfect

I find it fascinating that as pregnant women, at least in this culture, we hope for nothing more than our growing babies to be average. Abnormalities on ultrasounds are not good things and when we're 28 weeks along, we hope to be measuring 28 cm, not 27 and not 29. We hope for our baby to be wigglin around in there enough, but not too much and not too frantically. We hope for a heart rate between 125-160, because that's average and doctors grow concerned if the heart rate is to low or too high. The reality is that when we are growing these little beings in our bellies, average is just perfect.

And then, what happens? From the moment those babies are ushered out into this world, at least this Western, achievement-based world, average suddenly isn't good enough anymore. Moms and dads secretly hope for their child to be the first one smiling and talking and walking. They have dreams about their kids being all-star athletes, world leaders, the one responsible for discovering a cure to a deadly disease. I'm not going to lie, Tom and I have had conversations, mostly in jest about, but conversations none the less about our little guy playing in the world cup someday. And who can blame parents for wanting their kids to be above average, 'heads above the rest?' Parents want the best for their kiddos, they desire to see them reach their full potential, whatever that is and whatever that looks like, right?

And here I sit, sleepless once again at 4:30 am, wishing for my baby boy to be average right now. You see, we had an ultrasound on Tuesday because the doctor was cncerned that I was measuring small. I'm 37.5 weeks and as it turns out, baby's head is measuring 36 weeks, but his belly and femur are measuring 33 weeks. The leg measurement isn't of so much concern to the docs, but the belly one is because it could ('could' being the key word) indicate that mini meuz is not receiving the nutrition he needs in the womb and they might want to get him out sooner than later so he can grow more easily. They are sending us to a Perinatalogist tomorrow (which is technically today since it's 4:30) or Monday to get another ultrasound, a more high-tech ultrasound by a specialist. It could just be that we make small babies, ones with big heads! After all, I was only 5lbs and a few ounces and was born on my due date. And well, Tom, self-admittedly has a big head, literally in circumferance, it's big, extremely good-looking, but big!

And so I sit and wonder about this little being in my belly. I wish I could talk to him and check in to see if he's getting enough to eat. I just want him to be average, in the sense that I just wish for him tobe healthy, to get what he needs. I know that the One who created him knows AND cares, and I trust that. I know that he was knitted with care in my womb and that every little hair on his body is numbered. Yes, I know. And yet I still find myself wanting to make deals with God, like if you just keep him healthy now, I'll never wish for anything more. Right! Number one, I don't believe that's how God works and number 2, it's a complete lie because I know myself and I know that I will be wanting the best for my little guy all the more after he enters this world.

I suppose the key is to let this story unfold, to continue to trust in the one who made this little guy inside me, and to let him unfold as a unique and beautiful person, however average or below average or above average he may be. Easier said than done. I sense another life-long lesson about to begin...