When I last posted, I was about to embark on a cold turkey intervention with Lauren by taking away her miracle blanket. I have to say that I have never failed more horribly at anything in my entire life. Except maybe gymnastics when I was about nine. And Accounting 211 at Penn State.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit that I am weak, and perhaps I have enabled her. All I can say is that she was awake screaming 7 times between 9:00 pm and 11:30 pm on the evening of my last post. She finally fell asleep (on her tummy) from 11:30 until 2:00, at which point the screaming began once again. I caved at 5:15, wrapped her back up and watched as she magically closed her eyes and then had the gall to smile at me. It was at that point that I got in the shower and started my normal morning preparation, grumbling at my inability to stand firm and my stupidity for thinking that standing firm with a newborn is even a good idea.
If there's one thing I learned with Joshua it's that transitions like this work best when I don't try to impose my timelines onto him. I could cite multiple instances--- the bottle, his pacifier, moving him out of his crib, having him stay in children's church without me there, potty training--- all of which end the same way. In his own time, things go pretty darn smoothly. I don't know what I was thinking to assume that Lauren was going to be any different. And so, it appears that we'll wean s-l-o-w-l-y from the miracle blanket.
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Yesterday, Miss Lauren had the pleasure of going for her six month checkup at the doctor's office. We were a few weeks late in getting there...but it didn't take long of sitting in a jam packed waiting room to figure out why it was hard to get scheduled for an appointment. I will say that I was sitting across from a very sophistocated Mom who was working on an iPad and it has sparked in me an intense desire to have one of my own. For what, I'm not sure. But goodness, was that thing ever cool!
Anyway, Lauren's dislike for the pediatrician's office has now been firmly cemented in her adorable little mind. At the sight of the exam room, she broke out into hysterics that ended only when I picked her up. They began again when she got within a foot of the examining table.
In terms of stats, I will sum it up by saying that we officially have a runt on our hands. Or a leprechaun. Or the Mayor of Munchkin City. She weighs 13 lb 5.5 oz and was 25.5 inches long. Her weight puts her at the 5th percentile, down from the 25th when she was born. And her length puts her at the 35th percentile, down from the 50th when she was born. Both have steadily declined over the past six months. The nurse was concerned. The doctor was not. He told us that she's well within normal range, she's hitting developmental milestones ahead of schedule, she's generally happy and content and a good sleeper (ahem) so we're not to do anything differently. He must have seen the panic in my face when we talked about her eating habits and he assured me not to change a thing and that she just might be little. I suppose that's not a bad thing. She'll get to wear whatever size heels she wants to the prom and she won't struggle to find a boyfriend who is taller than she is.
I can't honestly tell you that it doesn't shake me a bit to have her be so small, as though a chubby, roly-poly baby is the sign of a good mother. That doesn't even make any sense. But I'm struggling a bit with the same insecurity we all face as moms. Are we making the right choices? Are we giving our kids the absolute best? Could we do anything different or better to give them more? I have to knock that off....because it's not productive at all. But I do think it's normal.
My sweet girl earned herself two shots, even though she was still at the tail end of the sickness that we have had (and effectively shared throughout Mifflin County on our visit home at Easter). She seemed to be doing fine until I sat her in her high chair to eat some cereal and carrots last night around 7:00. All of a sudden she broke out into hysterics and I realized that she had spiked a fever. I gave her some Tylenol, ditched the solids for the night and attempted to get her into her pajamas so that she could just cuddle to sleep. It was then that I realized that her right leg wasn't moving at all. It was just hanging limp and she screamed bloody murder at the approach of a hand anywhere near it. Once she nursed for a good long time, mostly for comfort I believe, she drifted off to sleep and slept pretty well. I did need to give her some more Tylenol around 3 because she was getting warm again. She seems happier and not as fevered today. Her legs are moving fine, so that's good news.
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And Joshua. Oh Joshua. He's doing great. Loved a trip to Camp Victory this weekend to visit with our Key Club friends. He was officially tasked with gathering twigs for the camp fire and did an outstanding job. I honestly think he'd still be there if we would have allowed him. He has been full of anectdotes and stories lately too, but any specific ones are escaping me at the moment. I'll have to put a just-Joshua post together here soon.
If you made it this far, God bless your heart. More to come soon!
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