If only I had time to breathe, or I wasn't raised to be so square, or there was room for anything in the fridge other than frigging breastmilk, maybe then I would drink.
This week, I probably should be drinking, and not just because it's Mother's Day and Moms should get plastered and do every sinful thing they've had a hankering to do all year but abstained while try (or feigning) to be better than themselves as the next generation's role models.
No, I should drink because Quinn has done so little all week, and has filled her belly with cries instead of food. A theme we all are growing a little tired of. (Yes, I did just end a sentence with a preposition -- let the sinning begin!)
It started with a visit to her doctor for a weight check after all those digestive diagnostics, and a pneumonia vaccine. The vomiting was the issue up until that point; she would eat a mere two ounces at best and then hurl at least half of it back up. Having worked in a pediatric malnutrition clinic in Boston, I was terrified she was going to starve and fail to grow.
So I cheated. A lottabit.
To cram the calories into what food she was digesting, I made my own recipe of mother's milk and formula. What little she did digest, had to help her thrive. And thrive she did! In the three weeks since the doctor last seen her, Quinn's weight skyrocketed from 8.5lbs to over 9.5! That's phenomenal and, really, unnatural growth.
Without an explanation, it looked like she'd been hanging with Manny Ramirez and taking baby 'roids.
Once I confessed about my concoction, the doctor explained how unhealthy that would be over the long-term for her kidneys. Great, I just broke the kid again. He wasn't too worried -- yet -- but I promised not to continue fattening her up like veal.
Oddly enough, since that appointment, Quinn she hasn't vomited even once! Which, don't get me wrong, I am thrilled about. However, she replaced the vomiting with something akin to baby anorexia as she'll only take a few sips of milk (or formula) before hollering her head off for the next twenty minutes.
Mix in some constipation (who thought I'd miss her target practice with explosive diarrhea?!), and stepping in some dog vomit at crack of dark this morning and you have the makings of a perfect Mother's Day cocktail.
Cheers!
Mimosa Mama & the Butterball
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2 comments:
From the pictures she seems to be a happy baby and you say that she is thriving and gaining weight. No one ever said that it would be easy but all seems to be well. Keep up the good work.
Happy mother's day
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