Bad Mums’ Club: So There’s A Chance I’ve Forgotten My Daughter’s Birth Weight…


There are certain things you store in your head, when you become a mum, aren’t there? Your child’s first word, the memory of that first time they laughed, how much they weighed when they were born…

Oh crap. What did my daughter weigh when she was born?

Yes, folks, my Bad Mums’ Club confession this month is that I have no idea what my child’s birth weight was. I can see you shaking your head in disbelief and rolling your eyes at how this could even be possible. The thing is, I definitely used to know her birth weight. It once roll off my tongue in a split second. I’d be sitting around with my NCT friends, small-baby-and-muslin on shoulder, discussing the colour of poo and what it means (sample chat: “Is bright yellow bad?”… “Oh it could be because he had his jabs this week…?”) and someone would casually ask what my daughter weighed at birth, and I’d just tell them.

But somewhere along the way, in amongst information about weaning and puree, Jumperoos and Mini Micro Scooters going IN to my brain, my daughter’s birth weight fell OUT of my brain.

Does this actually make me a bad mum, though? Do I need to know her birth weight? After all, I can look back at her birth and I know (despite my foggy Pethadine-induced haze) that I had to push an actual baby out of my vagina. I pushed a lot. Pushing her up and out was without a doubt the most mindbendingly surreal thing I have ever experienced – do I need to know the actual weight of the human I ejected from my body?

There’s something about your child’s birth weight, though, that seems IMPORTANT. Part of me feels like I’m admitting to not remembering when her birthday is (which PS I do know).

But I remember other things that, personally, I think are more important. Like the first time we sat and drew together and the first time she had her face painted (she was Spider-Man). I remember the moment I realised she is a genuinely funny person with the skill to make people laugh. I remember the first thunder storm she didn’t get scared by, standing by the open back door watching the rain and lightning. I remember the first time she recited the whole alphabet (me: “It’s zed, not zee!”) and when she counted all the way to 30.

And anyway, if I really want to know her birth weight, I can just look in her red NHS book, right? Oh hang on, I lost that…

  • This post is part of the Bad Mums’ Club – a series of posts by bloggers on our ‘failings’ as mums. Of course, we know we’re not really bad parents, but sometimes it’s good for the soul to confess a little and share the not-so-perfect side of parenting. If you’re a blogger and have a post like this, link it up below and we’ll come read your post. If you’re not a blogger, you can access all of this month’s Bad Mums’ Club posts below and have a nice little read. Don’t forget to visit Morgana, Aimee and Katie to read their Bad Mums’ Club posts!

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  1. August 4, 2014 / 9:01 am

    Oh I am so with you on that one. I forget all of these things, including their date of birth sometimes and the year I got married. My excuse is that having four kids has addled my brain. My eldest son asked me if I had Alzheimer’s as I forget so much bless him

    • Alison Perry
      August 4, 2014 / 12:24 pm

      I feel so much better knowing I’m not alone!

  2. August 4, 2014 / 9:09 am

    It is a surprise that we are so interested in birth weight, my mum has recounted my own birth weight stories to so often it is ingrained into my brain! Thanks for an entertaining read.

    • Alison Perry
      August 4, 2014 / 12:26 pm

      Ah thanks for that kind comment.

  3. August 4, 2014 / 9:10 am

    I can relate, you know that conversation of ‘when did your child first [insert milestone here]?’ I’m rubbish at that, I can’t remember anything and now I have two children I get their development and early years completely mixed up! xx

    • Alison Perry
      August 4, 2014 / 12:25 pm

      I bought one of those baby books where you enter in all of the important dates and info… but I didn’t fill any of it in! Oops. Wish I had now…

  4. August 4, 2014 / 9:26 am

    I totally remember (because somebody kindly gave me a teddy for each of them with their name DOB and weight – THAT IS WHAT I REFER TO WHEN PEOPLE ASK! “Larry…go get your doggy please”).

    Have to say, I welled up a little bit at the end when you were remembering things – I love those memories. x

    • Alison Perry
      August 4, 2014 / 12:26 pm

      Genius. Wish I had a teddy to refer to 😉

  5. August 4, 2014 / 12:54 pm

    Thank you for this confession, I am so happy I am not alone. I can’t remember my boys weight either, my response usually is “they felt massive when I squeezed them out!” That usually stops any further questioning. While we are on topic I can’t remember the exact time they were born either!! Yep! That does feel good to get off my chest. Love Bad Mums Club!! x

  6. August 4, 2014 / 2:46 pm

    I honestly have no idea why people are even arsed about birth weight, such a strange thing in a way but i guess there is not that much else to say about newborns! I actually can remember my boys birth weights and time of births but i am quite good at remembering useless bits of info, not so much the useful stuff like my own postcode 😉

  7. August 4, 2014 / 8:24 pm

    hahaha – that is really very funny! I remember her birth weight but I’m pretty clueless on the fact weeks/months old she was for all her milestones… I just never wrote it down and god knows now! I just make it up 🙂 #winning #badmumsclub

  8. August 5, 2014 / 10:09 am

    I had to double take about the year H was born which I think is infinitely worse. His birth is forever ingrained in my brain however as he was flipping huge.

    I don’t get the whole obsession with the birth weight in all honesty. It doesn’t really mean anything!

    This one made me chuckle a lot! x

  9. April 28, 2020 / 6:13 pm

    “Have you been getting rid of things that are stressful?” Giwa asked, handing her a tin of lavender balm, homemade from herbs in her garden.

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