... what I have long suspected. Giant Speck is, in fact, gigantic. Or, in the more diplomatic terms of my midwife, she is "measuring larger than average for her gestational age". At our last appointment, the midwife chatted with us about how I was feeling (uncomfortable), how the baby was moving (lots, and with total disregard for my internal organs), and what concerns we had, if any (see above). Then she got out the measuring tape, applied it to my splitting-at-the-seams belly, and said, "Huh." She went out and called in another midwife, for a second opinion. The second midwife measured me, too, contemplated me for a minute, and then said, "No, I agree with your numbers". It was then explained to me that Speck seemed to have accomplished a growth spurt since my last visit, and was currently measuring on the large side, which was a slight red flag given my previous history of diabetes. They did an ultrasound to get a better look, and gave me the rough estimate of somewhere between 6 1/2 and 8 1/2 pounds for Speck's weight -- and mind you, this was over a week ago, with a month left until the due date. I have known all along that Speck was of greater than average size (in both body and spirit), but it is never emotionally comfortable to cause a big flurry among your birthing staff. To be on the cautious side, they signed me up for yet another diabetes test, which came back sort of inconclusive, so I had to go back and do a longer version of it (three hours where you sit in the lab waiting room, drink a really sugary drink on an empty stomach, and then have your blood drawn every hour for three hours to see how you have reacted to the sugary drink, the waiting room, and the constant blood-drawing. It's pretty fun!). I do not, in fact, have diabetes, which is nice, and I have developed what I consider to be a deep and lasting friendship with the blood-drawing guy at the hospital, and everyone can use more friends, so that's good, too.
While I was sitting and doing my tests, Max was being entertained by his Tillman grandparents. Evidently, he went to the park, rode his bike, saw some baby geese (pictured below) and tried to touch them, was given hand-made fruit smoothies and fresh bread, and lived it up in high style. When I asked him later what he had done that morning, he said, "Grandma, whee! Dog, whoof whoof! Grandpa." He had to take a three-hour nap to recover from all the good times.