Yet still you hunger for my wisdom, and so I comply. Hunter's new favourite thing is puking. In a strange coincidence, puking has also recently become one of both Mama's and my least favourite things. It was particularly distressing when the doctor floated the idea that the little guy's vomiting might have gone beyond mere recreation; that some kind of evil stomach thingy might be stopping the nourishing breast juice from getting where it needed going.
The only solution to that particular quagmire would have been a surgical procedure that would leave a gigantic (though admittedly very tough looking) scar down the baby's stomach. Y'know, like what you filthy meat-eaters do to pigs and the like.
Luckily Hunter rode that wave of spewtilation out and is back to throwing up a regular amount (which is still, like, a lot.) But damned if those doctors don't have an uncanny ability to make you feel both incredibly helpless and terrified all at once... really makes one wish they hadn't quit smoking.
We are due our last midwife visit on Monday, which will be sad because Anne is amazingly cool; and I'm not just saying that because she basically told us our baby is a super-genius possessing disproportionate strength and a smile like a switchblade (I may be paraphrasing.) I'll probably report back on how that milestone goes, but for now- back to the grind.
1 comments:
Bean is gross and sticky, he needs a bath!
Post a Comment