When Aisha was born, she was a wee thing of just over six pounds. In June, at her six-month checkup, the paediatrician informed me that she weighed 18 lb 9oz. She’d gone from being in the 20th percentile for both height and weight in her fourth month, to the 90th percentile for weight (and only 10th in height – womp, womp).
When I relaid the information to our home care nurse, her eyes widened and she said, “Oh, my! Babies are supposed to triple their birth weights by about one year of age…she’s already past that.”
I’m not entirely surprised. Last week I wrote about her healthy appetite. Her current love of all things edible means she’ll likely be a Chunky McButtons well into toddler-hood.
While her weight means that she will have to have regular bloodwork to ensure her thyroid is functioning properly, neither her doctor nor I are particularly worried at this point; kids with DS tend to be shorter and stockier than their typical counterparts.
People tell me she’s heavy, but I usually don’t feel it; I carry her around in such a way that doesn’t tire my arms or hurt my back. Recently, I’ve noticed that I strain a little more each time I pick her up. So about a week ago, I stepped on the scale, babe in hand, to see how much she weighs. She clocked in at a whopping 22 pounds.
My friend Sharon told me that her little boy was off the charts for both height and weight as a toddler. At two years old, he was about three feet tall and weighed 40 pounds! But it’s since evened out, because three years later, he’s only gained an inch in height, while his weight has remained the same.
I know that once Aisha becomes more active, she’ll shed a few pounds. I’m not making an issue of her size; I’ve always been of the mindset that babies should be chubby. As long as her health isn’t at risk, I’m down for a little extra Peanut to love.
Now if only I could be so carefree about the extra poundage on my own frame…