When I was seven months pregnant, the stares became constant—and not the sweet, “You’re glowing!” kind. Strangers would stop me in the grocery store, friends would whisper, and family members flat-out asked: “Are you sure there’s not more than one in there?”
By the time I hit eight months, my belly was so huge and round, people assumed I was carrying quadruplets. Even the ultrasound technician raised an eyebrow at one point, joking, “You sure you’re not hiding a basketball team in there?” It wasn’t just the size—it was how active the baby was. Kicks, stretches, full-on flips—this kid was doing gymnastics in the womb.
Naturally, everyone around me began spinning wild theories:
“You’re definitely having twins, they just missed one!”
“No, it’s triplets and two are hiding behind the big one!”
“My aunt’s cousin had quads and didn’t know until labor!”
Honestly? I started believing it myself. I mean, science is great, but so many people couldn’t be wrong… right?
Fast-forward to my delivery day. I waddled into the hospital like a human beach ball, half-expecting a whole team of babies to be pulled out. Nurses smiled nervously, joking about clearing extra cribs “just in case.” My partner was pacing like we were about to welcome the entire cast of Sesame Street.
And then it happened.
After hours of labor, the moment came. I gave the final push—and everyone in the room gasped.
But it wasn’t because I’d just given birth to four babies.
It was because of what actually came out.
One baby.
Just one.
But oh my goodness—he was massive.
Weighing in at 13.2 pounds and measuring 24 inches long, my son basically skipped the newborn phase and came out ready for kindergarten.
The doctor held him up and said, “Well, now we know why everyone thought you were having multiples.”
The nurses burst into laughter. One even snapped a picture with him and said, “I’ve delivered smaller toddlers!”
My little champ was perfectly healthy—and incredibly hungry from the moment he arrived. We had to put him in size 3 diapers on day one. His hospital onesie didn’t even button, and we had to go buy clothes from the toddler section before taking him home.
Looking back, it’s hilarious. I wasn’t carrying four babies—I was carrying one extra-large, superhero-sized baby boy. And while it wasn’t quite the surprise everyone expected, it’s one I’ll never forget.
So the next time someone tells you you’re “too big” during pregnancy or asks, “Are you sure it’s not triplets?”—smile. You never know what kind of powerhouse is waiting to make their grand entrance.
