The Joy of Parenting

Or more specifically, the joy of having to go to the pediatrician on a regular basis. Today's visit was for Bean's 4-month checkup, and it went reasonably well, even if she did have to endure being jabbed four times. She is surprisingly lighter than we had expected, which shouldn't be worrisome, exactly...but of course, it is. She's certainly heavier than the last time we took her in, by a pound and a half, and really, for two months time, that's not all that bad. Not all that great, perhaps, but then again, she gained another inch and another two centimeters in head circumference.

I often wonder at this mad desire we all seem to have, parents, pediatricians, grocery store cashiers, for kids to be huge. Because that's exactly what we've been having to endure for the last four months.."that's the tiniest baby I've ever seen!" "My god! How old is she?!" "Did you just give birth?". And so forth. What seems so funny is that everyone also seems in a froth about childhood obesity--so where exactly is the dividing line between the two? She's on an upward swing, narrow though it may be, and she certainly didn't start out very big; neither my husband nor I are terribly large people. But now I've been told that I may need to start supplementing her diet with formula...something I'm not entirely prepared to do, quite honestly. I am going to try to increase my milk supply and hope that does the trick. But isn't it funny how just the mere suggestion of supplementing causes me to go completely freaky and feel like the world's biggest failure as a parent? Or more accurately, as a mother?

There is nothing wrong with the choice to formula feed, I'm not saying that---but once you've made the choice to breastfeed, it's a hard decision to have to go the other way. I wonder why that is, frankly. I guess as a society we seem to have swung the pendulum 180 degrees, and now breastfeeding is de rigeur, so if one doesn't manage to do the Earth Mother bit 100%, something is apparently wrong. Sometimes it really bites being a mother, I swear.

On a happier note, we had the first true session with our vision intervention specialist, and she was really pleased with Bean's energy level, motivation, curiousity, skill set, and alertness. Huzzah! As with her first conformer, knowing that we are setting our feet on the right path and finally seeing some results, brief and fleeting though they may be, brings a huge sense of relief.

As for today's jabbings, the look on Bean's face when the first one went in shredded my heart into a million pieces, but her almost immediate stoicism and resiliency repaired it quickly. I've been telling a lot of people this, but it bears repeating---if we had a child with no issues, I might prefer one who was a bit more, well, docile. But since we don't, I am pretty damn happy that she is one tough cookie. Jabs? Not a huzzah. Bean the Trooper? Definitely a huzzah.