I just read about the UK Biobank research that suggests there’s a link between the head size of babies at birth and intelligence in later life.
If that’s in fact the case, my first born child will be the next freaking Albert ‘Big Brain’ Einstein.
I still remember the romance of being pregnant with our first child. I couldn’t wait for my stomach to swell, my boobs to grow and the flood of hormones that would keep me in a combo of happiness and tears. Every visit to the obstetrician was both nerve racking and exciting, and your partner/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend is as attentive as a fly on freshly delivered cow dung.
All that changed for me when my obstetrician looked at a scan and just made the
“What do you mean Oooooooh?” I asked nervously
“Ummmm, your baby just has a really large head so we’ll need to take that into account”
WTAF do you mean, “take that into account?”
To this very day, my brain and vajayjay are still horrified by that simple statement.
I looked at the husband and knew that he was trying to stifle a giggle. My face gave him the ‘don’t even breathe’ look and his desperate need to keep living and see his first child made him change his face into a look of sympathy. Smart man he is.
Come delivery day and the temptation to walk into the hospital backwards with my back exposed introducing myself as Mrs F Epidural was almost overwhelming.
I was placed in a birthing suite next to a woman who was clearly being stabbed to death by a serial killer and told to just be calm. Ummmm… OK, put me next to a terrified moaning woman and tell me to be calm. Clearly, YOUR head was tiny at birth.
The moaning noises made me shudder and clench my legs shut, something I was starting to wish I’d done nine months prior.
It came time to push and all I could think of was doing a poo and the enormity of my future child’s head. I had sticky-out ears as a kid so I also had to remember to give an extra squeeze around the head as this baby came out to ensure its childhood was “Hey Big Ears” taunt-free. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried as the circumference of Mac’s head ensured that happened without any additional help from me.
I won’t go into any feral gory detail, but I will say that I only wanted to take my husband out five times. I wanted to stab him every time he told me to breathe and give him a great big rectal tear every time he told me how much he loved me. “LOVE? You Motherf (which wasn’t really an insult as I was nearly a mother and he did in fact well…you know…) How the f$ck can you love me when YOU DID THIS TO ME???”
He was down at the business end, being all freaking inspirational with one of my legs on his shoulder. I asked him if he thought being down ‘there’ would ruin it for him but he assured me that as a fire-fighter he ‘had seen some pretty bad motor vehicle accidents so he’d be fine”.
I was stunned. “WTF did you just say to me? Are you seriously comparing my f%cking vagina to a motor vehicle accident?”
Eight and a half years later and I’m still throwing that sentence at him after a few wines.
Adam retreated pretty quickly back down to the business end and I concentrated on delivering our future Mensa member. After our beautiful big-headed baby boy came out I was so overwhelmed by emotions that it took a while to notice the obstetrician was still between my legs. I asked him how many stitches I was getting and he responded with the “just one” bullshit statement.
I knew he was lying as he’d been down there with his crochet needle long enough to make a baby blanket and a matching set of booties.
That February the 12th is still one of my most incredible life experiences. Over time the rest of M1’s body has caught up with the size of his head, which is an incredible relief.
Reading that research today has made me incredibly happy that at least one of my children will be successful enough to keep me in a style I’m yet to become accustomed to.
So there you have it. The story of our big headed future CEO baby.