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Jun. 8th, 2005 09:17 pmPoor Alex is having a rough day. Today was her two-month "well baby" visit to the pediatrician, which meant four - count 'em, four - immunizations. Diphtheria, pertussis, tetanus, hemophilus influenzae, pneumococcus, hepatitis, polio. "I can't promise that it won't hurt," said her pediatrician, "but I can promise to be quick." And then he jabbed her four times with sharp needles, while Michael and I held her hands and kept her pacifier in her mouth and talked to her reassuringly. She turned purple with crying. Poor little girl. She settled down afterwards with cuddling and more pacifier sucking, and later fell asleep in the supermarket. But this evening she kept up a steady, unhappy, uncomfortable whining cry. Clearly not her fault - hey, I remember how much the tetanus shot hurts afterward, from my own last booster shot. Of course it's too much for a little baby to handle.
Now she is sleeping in my lap, in the sling, thanks to the sweet cherry relief of Children's Tylenol. Don't you think "Sweet Cherry Relief" would be a good name for a band?
The rest of the exam went stunningly well. Her pediatrician is delighted with her growth and development. She has "excellent muscle tone for her age," he said - he predicted early walking. She's in the 60th percentile for weight (eleven pounds even) and the 75th percentile for length. He walked us through some of the upcoming developmental milestones, which I already knew about but appreciated anyway. And he struck precisely the right note about the end of breastfeeding: recognition that it was very important to me and that stopping was not an easy decision, appreciation of the degree of effort I put in, and assurance that we made the right decision. I asked whether the amount I'm currently pumping (8oz per day) makes any medical difference to the baby, and he said yes, it definitely does. So I'll keep pumping for the forseeable future.
The neatest thing about being Alex's mother these days is the increasing amount of time she spends awake, alert, and content. In her early weeks, for the most part she was only awake if she needed something. Now she spends a significant portion of her day awake and happy, or awake and interested in her surroundings. In church last Sunday, she spent most of the service sitting upright in her sling and looking quietly around. At the doctor's office today, she let the doctor examine her without crying at all - she just watched him, or looked at us, or examined the big Danish flag on the wall. (Each exam room has a country theme.) Oftentimes, when I'm holding her in my lap she'll just watch me quietly, studying my face as I read or talk to her or write e-mails. And of course, she's engaging her toys with joy and verve. She's so much more there, these days. It's just lovely.
Now she is sleeping in my lap, in the sling, thanks to the sweet cherry relief of Children's Tylenol. Don't you think "Sweet Cherry Relief" would be a good name for a band?
The rest of the exam went stunningly well. Her pediatrician is delighted with her growth and development. She has "excellent muscle tone for her age," he said - he predicted early walking. She's in the 60th percentile for weight (eleven pounds even) and the 75th percentile for length. He walked us through some of the upcoming developmental milestones, which I already knew about but appreciated anyway. And he struck precisely the right note about the end of breastfeeding: recognition that it was very important to me and that stopping was not an easy decision, appreciation of the degree of effort I put in, and assurance that we made the right decision. I asked whether the amount I'm currently pumping (8oz per day) makes any medical difference to the baby, and he said yes, it definitely does. So I'll keep pumping for the forseeable future.
The neatest thing about being Alex's mother these days is the increasing amount of time she spends awake, alert, and content. In her early weeks, for the most part she was only awake if she needed something. Now she spends a significant portion of her day awake and happy, or awake and interested in her surroundings. In church last Sunday, she spent most of the service sitting upright in her sling and looking quietly around. At the doctor's office today, she let the doctor examine her without crying at all - she just watched him, or looked at us, or examined the big Danish flag on the wall. (Each exam room has a country theme.) Oftentimes, when I'm holding her in my lap she'll just watch me quietly, studying my face as I read or talk to her or write e-mails. And of course, she's engaging her toys with joy and verve. She's so much more there, these days. It's just lovely.
