Pushing the 'Cute Baby' Odds...

Can you really get lucky five out of five times?

by Meagan Francis

When I was pregnant with my first baby, I just assumed he'd be healthy and whole. I had no reason to believe otherwise: all the tests came back clean and I was young, healthy and had basically zero risk factors for any problems.

However, one secret, shameful, shallow thought did nag at me from time to time.

"What if," I whispered to my husband late one night, "What if the baby's....ugly?"


After considering this terrible prospect, it became a bit of a joke between us. We could have That Ugly Baby, the one all of our friends cooed over in front of us, while exchanging horrified glances when our backs were turned. We'd become a running joke, like that episode of Seinfeld, where Elaine's doctor crush refers to a truly homely baby as "breathtaking".

As it turned out, our fears were unfounded. When Jacob was born, one of the first things I said was "Oh--you're so CUTE!" And he was. Simply beautiful. 

I went on to confidently have two more cute kids in a row, but I'll admit that by the time I got to my fourth pregnancy, I began to get the uncomfortable feeling that I was stretching the odds.

"I mean, what are the chances that we'll end up with four out of four cute babies?" I asked my husband. "If you ask me, one of them is likely to come out with his face upside-down or something."

Little Owen's head was indeed right-side-up, and he was simply adorable. I breathed a sigh of relief.

But now that I'm pregnant with number five, I get the sense that I'm totally pushing my luck. Not only are my babies all cute, but they've all been healthy, and I've had uncomplicated births. Really, aren't I just asking for it now?

But then look at the Duggar family, who just welcomed their 18th baby the other day. If anybody is tempting the fates, it's them. And yet, somehow they've managed to create 18 healthy and gorgeous children.  In fact, out of 18 babies, Michelle Duggar's had only 3 C-sections. Considering the national C-Section rate is over 30%, she's beating some odds there, too.

So maybe it's not audacious to assume that I'll have yet another cute baby. After all, I've done it four times already, right?

Or have I? Recently I looked back over some pictures of my boys when they were newborns, and I'm not so sure they were as gorgeous then as they are in my memory.  Take my eldest son, the one I proclaimed "so cute!" upon birth. In his photos, he's a wrinkly, scaly little creature with patchy, slightly yellowed skin and a disturbingly large forehead. Owen, my fourth, looks like a miniature, aged Chairman of the Board in his pictures, complete with receding chin and snarly expression. Do the pictures lie, or is it my maternal memory?

I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, after this little girl is born, I'm sure I'll proclaim her the most beautiful baby on the face of the planet. And if my friends are exchanging glances and making faces over the top of my head, I'll probably never even notice. In my head, all my babies were simply beautiful, and this one will be, too.

After giving birth to four of the cutest babies ever--whether in reality or simply my hormone-clouded memory--what else would I expect?