It's a Lime! It's a Cantaloupe! It's a Baby!
One of the biggest questions I've had while pregnant (besides "what the hell am I doing?") has been how big is the baby right now? It's incredible that a human starts out smaller than a speck of dust, then weighs almost an ounce -- about as much as a slice of bread -- by 13 weeks gestation. At 20 weeks, halfway through baking, she weighs less than a pound but at 40 weeks she'll be more than 7.5 pounds. That's some serious growth in a relatively short amount of time.
For some reason, books and websites insist on offering a visual of a fetus's size by comparing her to fruits and vegetables. I assume this is to further drive home the point that I should be eating healthful foods full of vitamins and minerals, and not half that bag of mini chocolate-caramel-pecan turtles I polished off about 20 minutes ago. The first problem with the fruits and vegetables scenario (besides their lack of chocolate and caramel) is that I don't know what half of them are. Sure, I've heard of a leek, and I think kumquat is a very funny word, but I still can't visualize a lentil. Give me something I can work with, people.
The other problem with this system is the mistaken assumption that fruits and veggies come in standard sizes. Have you ever been apple picking? Apples, even of the same variety, come in very different sizes. Some are small like golf balls, while others are more like fat softballs. So when a book tells me that at 15 weeks baby is about the size of an apple, are we talking crabapples or fuji apples or honeycrisps or golden deliciouses? Are these apples a little on the early side, so they're smaller, or were they allowed to ripen on the tree to become over-plump with goodness? I'm going to need some more information here.
A drastic improvement would be comparing babies to processed junk food. Not only do these come in standard, mass-produced sizes, but they are also easy to visualize and even easier to eat. For example, the old way will tell you that at 12 weeks, baby is about the size of a lime. I don't know offhand how big a whole lime is, because most of my limes come sliced and perched on the rim of a glass containing an expertly mixed Cuba Libre. But I know Oreos. I am extremely well acquainted with those. So if you tell me the baby is about 2 inches long, or the size of one chocolate sandwich cookie (preferably dipped in white chocolate), then you have my attention. And also my money, because I will go out and buy that right away.
At 15 weeks we're back to apples and confusion. But if you got more specific and told me that baby was roughly as long as a Twinkie, about 4 inches, that I understand. I would also be relieved that I am carrying a singleton rather than the two-per-pack which Twinkies usually arrive in. And that babies don't come wrapped in cellophane, for obvious reasons.
I'm 24 weeks right now, which my phone app says is either the size of a cantaloupe or an ear of corn, about 12 inches from head to heel. I don't like melon and I prefer my corn to be cream style, accompanied by some crisp baked pork chops and homemade mashed potatoes. So instead I think of this baby as one-third of a container of Fruit by the Foot. The strawberry kind, if you please, so I can pretend I'm having a serving of fruit.
By the time she is born she will be about 20 inches long, give or take. The books compare this to a mini-watermelon. What? Is that an actual fruit category, or a stage of growth? Do they mean mini-watermelon in the same way that kittens are mini-cats? Or in the way that a Mini Cooper is a stand-alone that has no accompanying Regular Cooper? This is completely unclear. Much better to compare her to a 20-inch pizza at Big Lou's. That's a concept I can wrap my head around, and a meal I can stuff in my face.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a tub of cream cheese frosting calling my name.
For some reason, books and websites insist on offering a visual of a fetus's size by comparing her to fruits and vegetables. I assume this is to further drive home the point that I should be eating healthful foods full of vitamins and minerals, and not half that bag of mini chocolate-caramel-pecan turtles I polished off about 20 minutes ago. The first problem with the fruits and vegetables scenario (besides their lack of chocolate and caramel) is that I don't know what half of them are. Sure, I've heard of a leek, and I think kumquat is a very funny word, but I still can't visualize a lentil. Give me something I can work with, people.
The other problem with this system is the mistaken assumption that fruits and veggies come in standard sizes. Have you ever been apple picking? Apples, even of the same variety, come in very different sizes. Some are small like golf balls, while others are more like fat softballs. So when a book tells me that at 15 weeks baby is about the size of an apple, are we talking crabapples or fuji apples or honeycrisps or golden deliciouses? Are these apples a little on the early side, so they're smaller, or were they allowed to ripen on the tree to become over-plump with goodness? I'm going to need some more information here.
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| Not babies. |
A drastic improvement would be comparing babies to processed junk food. Not only do these come in standard, mass-produced sizes, but they are also easy to visualize and even easier to eat. For example, the old way will tell you that at 12 weeks, baby is about the size of a lime. I don't know offhand how big a whole lime is, because most of my limes come sliced and perched on the rim of a glass containing an expertly mixed Cuba Libre. But I know Oreos. I am extremely well acquainted with those. So if you tell me the baby is about 2 inches long, or the size of one chocolate sandwich cookie (preferably dipped in white chocolate), then you have my attention. And also my money, because I will go out and buy that right away.
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| Mmmm...12 weeks. |
At 15 weeks we're back to apples and confusion. But if you got more specific and told me that baby was roughly as long as a Twinkie, about 4 inches, that I understand. I would also be relieved that I am carrying a singleton rather than the two-per-pack which Twinkies usually arrive in. And that babies don't come wrapped in cellophane, for obvious reasons.
I'm 24 weeks right now, which my phone app says is either the size of a cantaloupe or an ear of corn, about 12 inches from head to heel. I don't like melon and I prefer my corn to be cream style, accompanied by some crisp baked pork chops and homemade mashed potatoes. So instead I think of this baby as one-third of a container of Fruit by the Foot. The strawberry kind, if you please, so I can pretend I'm having a serving of fruit.
By the time she is born she will be about 20 inches long, give or take. The books compare this to a mini-watermelon. What? Is that an actual fruit category, or a stage of growth? Do they mean mini-watermelon in the same way that kittens are mini-cats? Or in the way that a Mini Cooper is a stand-alone that has no accompanying Regular Cooper? This is completely unclear. Much better to compare her to a 20-inch pizza at Big Lou's. That's a concept I can wrap my head around, and a meal I can stuff in my face.
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| Come to momma |
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a tub of cream cheese frosting calling my name.
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