We did not have a good check-up.
First of all, Molly lost three ounces in two weeks and is back under 7 pounds.
I am starting to lose confidence in the scales at the pediatrician’s office. There are, like, 20 different rooms, each equipped with a scale more ghetto than the next.
There is no way that Molly gained 17 ounces in a week. I was willing to accept it then because it was good news, but now that she has lost weight again I think the scales are a scam. I weighed Molly the night before on our scale at home, and she clocked in at 7.5 pounds. Still not a huge gain for two weeks, but a gain nonetheless. You can imagine how surprised I was when they told me she had withered down to 6-14.
Again, they did not seem overly worried about this. In fact, the first thing the doctor said to me was, “I am proud of you for breastfeeding.” His constant enthusiasm confirms my suspicion that I am the only mother in Knox County doing this. They just want to check her in another week and try again. No formula supplements needed.
No problem for the nonchalant doctors because I will worry for them!
Hopefully next week we’ll get the good scale. Every woman has a scale she prefers. The one that delivers encouraging news. Poor Molly needs one that will pack on the pounds. If this doesn’t work, Seth has offered to poop in her diaper before we go to the doctor in hopes of contributing a few ounces (pounds?) to the cause.
And I will go back to Militant Mommy. The one who has been charged with the task of rousing baby every three hours and shoving an ounce or two more breast milk down her little throat than she would prefer to eat.
Her eyes get wide and watery like, “I am going to try to do this but you’re killing me, woman.”
It’s really heartbreaking.
Oh, and she also nearly passed out on the doctor.
He was poking and prodding her with his back toward me when I heard him say, “Oh, no! Catch your breath, baby,” and I see two purple-blue little legs and a nice blue belly poking out from under his arm.
“Uh-oh. Is she a breath holder?” he asks.
“She is now,” I said.
Looks like karma is in full swing.
I used to hold my breath until I completely passed out on my mother. (Or my aunt — whomever was holding me at the time.)
It’s a sure sign of Molly’s brilliance. Or her dangerous defiance? I’m not sure.
We’re in for a world of hurt with this one.
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