So Gabby turned two weeks old over the weekend and in we went to the pediatrician for our two week well child check. No shots (thankfully) – mainly just weight and a physical look at her and a chance for the doctor to make sure that she’s ok and that I don’t have Post partum depression issues. I solo’ed it –I wasn’t sure that I was going to be able to handle it, but I did. Gabby was surprisingly accommodating to both mommy and the pediatrician poking at her, weighing her and the whole nine yards. She has surpassed her birth weight. She was 7 pounds and two ounces at birth and today, she was at 7 pounds, 14 ounces, so she’s almost eight pounds. She’s also grown one inch to 21 inches. I knew that she was gaining weight – she’s a pretty aggressive eater in the sense that she wkaes up regularly, telegraphs that she’s hungry and consistently eats the amount that the “average” newborn eats. Her face has already started filling out. The one thing that I DID learn was that I should probably pack another shirt for ME (and not just Gabby) for our forays out into the community because Gabby managed to do her thing all over me while we were waiting for the doctor. Yes, she peed on me – I thought that I was done with that when Nate grew up (boys have a tendency to literally shoot you!) but apparently not. It comes with the turf though.
This afternoon, on the other hand, was a struggle for me. It seemed like nothing I could do was a comfort to my daughter. She fussed often and sometimes screamed so loudly that she turned red and I thought that the neighbors would call DCYF on me. Afternoons have been rough for the last two days. I think that Gabby tries to poop, which makes her uncomfortable and fussy. She’s then tired and kind of hungry on top of everything. It gets frustrating for me because I want to stop her crying. It’s literally painful for me to hear her cry and to struggle to figure out what is going on and it stresses me out when I can’t figure it out. Now don’t get me wrong, I get frustrated. Every parent does. But I love my daughter and would never do anything to hurt her. I just want to make her comfortable so that she’s happy. She finally settled down and now is sleeping after my bazillionith change of a poopy diaper (luckily breast milk fed babies don’t have raunchy smelling poops otherwise I’d really be in trouble!) and having consumed about 3 ounces.