![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
poop, and other things baby-related
Jun. 29th, 2011 02:27 amThis little man is a poop machine, now that he's getting enough milk. And he's indiscreet too, letting rip the loudest, raunchiest farts right out in public that make me feel the need to comment just to make sure passers-by know the baby did it.
At the pediatrician Saturday, he'd not gone for a couple days, and was nearly a pound down from his original birth weight, dropping to 7 lbs, 7 oz. The doctor "stimulated" his bowel, which unleashed a fury that hasn't stopped since. She was concerned about how much weight he'd lost, and gave me a sampler of formula to supplement with between feedings. My heart sank, feeling I was being roped into more of what I didn't want for my child. My labor didn't go as I wanted, and I wasn't going to let feeding go the same route. I accepted the formula, but had zero intention of using it.
Since then, he's been feeding and feeding like a crazed, starving animal. Every hour or half hour during the day, which is so much more often than the recommended every two to three hours. I figure if he's telling me he's hungry, I should probably listen.
It's been paying off. We went back to the pediatrician today, where he weighed in at 8 lbs, 1 oz. That's up 10 oz. from Saturday, only three days ago! On breast milk only! Boobs are awesome, and I'm glad I trusted mine.
Today was also the first day I went anywhere alone with Alden. Michael got him into his car seat, but then I dropped Michael off for volunteering, and had to drive the rest of the way (and back) alone. My car is a two door, and climbing in and out of the backseat holding an infant is very precarious. Not to mention, I am not fully recovered, and it hurts. And since the seat is behind my seat and rear-facing, I can't see if he's alright or if his head has flopped forward or if the sun is in his eyes. I don't like the car seat situation.
The cats are slowly adjusting to their new housemate. I completely expected Charlotte to be the concerned and motherly one and Blackie to avoid him at all costs, but they've surprisingly taken on opposing roles. Blackie was all wide-eyed curiosity from the moment we walked in the door. And Charlotte was all like:
She ignores him now for the most part, but is still doing strange things like using claws to slowly pull herself onto the bed like a mountain climber gripping a vertical rock face. Instead of just jumping up?
At the pediatrician Saturday, he'd not gone for a couple days, and was nearly a pound down from his original birth weight, dropping to 7 lbs, 7 oz. The doctor "stimulated" his bowel, which unleashed a fury that hasn't stopped since. She was concerned about how much weight he'd lost, and gave me a sampler of formula to supplement with between feedings. My heart sank, feeling I was being roped into more of what I didn't want for my child. My labor didn't go as I wanted, and I wasn't going to let feeding go the same route. I accepted the formula, but had zero intention of using it.
Since then, he's been feeding and feeding like a crazed, starving animal. Every hour or half hour during the day, which is so much more often than the recommended every two to three hours. I figure if he's telling me he's hungry, I should probably listen.
It's been paying off. We went back to the pediatrician today, where he weighed in at 8 lbs, 1 oz. That's up 10 oz. from Saturday, only three days ago! On breast milk only! Boobs are awesome, and I'm glad I trusted mine.
Today was also the first day I went anywhere alone with Alden. Michael got him into his car seat, but then I dropped Michael off for volunteering, and had to drive the rest of the way (and back) alone. My car is a two door, and climbing in and out of the backseat holding an infant is very precarious. Not to mention, I am not fully recovered, and it hurts. And since the seat is behind my seat and rear-facing, I can't see if he's alright or if his head has flopped forward or if the sun is in his eyes. I don't like the car seat situation.
The cats are slowly adjusting to their new housemate. I completely expected Charlotte to be the concerned and motherly one and Blackie to avoid him at all costs, but they've surprisingly taken on opposing roles. Blackie was all wide-eyed curiosity from the moment we walked in the door. And Charlotte was all like:
She ignores him now for the most part, but is still doing strange things like using claws to slowly pull herself onto the bed like a mountain climber gripping a vertical rock face. Instead of just jumping up?
