Here I am again. But tonight it is 10:06 when I begin typing. No one can ever suggest I am not a creature of habit. All of the munchkins are soundly in their beds, and my earnest prayer of the night is that they stay there. But I am not holding my breath. Last night, Mara and Joshua both ended up in my bed with me. The rules were very strict when Joshua was a baby. I was always petrified that I would create a bad habit. Take it from the one who relaxed all of the sleeping rules with Mara...brining a baby into bed with you absolutely creates a bad habit. But something has to give with baby #3. And apparently it was the "no kids in the bed" rule. Something tells me I will never for a single second regret those hours of snuggles with Mara when she is a teenager and no longer admits to knowing me.
I had an interesting interchange with the nurse at the pediatrician's office yesterday when I called to verify the dosage for Tylenol for Mara. The night before I had guessed and figured it would be worth a check in to be sure. Turns out I wasn't far off...thankfully. The whole thing has me thinking about the power of our words and how quick we all are to fling them about. I am making a concerted effort to be mindful of my words and to make sure that I pray for my thoughts to be pure, and for the words that form from those thoughts would be used to encourage others and not hurt them. Anyway, the conversation went like this:
Me: I am calling to ask how much Tylenol I can give my baby for a fever?
Her: How old is she?
Me: 8 months
Her: How much does she weigh?
Me: 14 1/2 lb.
Her: How old did you say she was again?
Me: 8 months.
Her: Are you sure?
Me: Yep, very sure.
Her: About her weight I mean.
Me: Oh...yes. Very sure about that too.
Her: Wow! That's unreal. She is really little. Do you realize how small she is?
Me: (On the verge of tears) How much Tylenol is she allowed to have?
Maybe this whole thing was meaningless, and perhaps I had a bit of sleep deprivation playing into the overreaction corner on this particular set of circumstances. But for a Mama with a sick baby, who has struggled and prayed about the baby's growth and weight gain, the last thing I needed to hear from my doctor's office of all places was an implication that I ought to be concerned about her weight. I know she is small, but I had sort of gotten to a place that I wasn't stressing daily about the mandatory 1/2 oz weight gain that we needed to produce. As if I had any control over it anyway.
Hoping that the words you all have heard today have built you up and not torn you down.
Good night all!
1 comment:
I'm so sorry. I'm guessing you were calling HER doctor's office, which makes the conversation a bit ridiculous and insensitive because obviously THEY have weighed her many times over the past 8 months and should already know that gaining weight is a struggle for her. I am fully emphathizing with you because gaining weight was a struggle for Ian from day one. He weighed 6lb 1oz at birth and 9lb at 4 months old. Nadia had taken off after 2 weeks so I wasn't expecting the big struggle the 2nd time (I also had nursed Nadia). I remember how Nadia had gained 1 lb in the 2 weeks after she was discharged from the NICU. That certainly didn't happen with either of my boys. I'm hoping and praying that gaining weight won't be a long term struggle for Oliver like it has been for Mara and was for Ian.
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