March 6, 2016

Dear Baby,

So I’m happy to say that your first cold is wrapping itself up (poo poo poo). It was a long week and you were such a trooper. On the other hand my cold has gotten a bit worse but as usual no one really cares about me. I don’t even really care about me as long as you are feeling good. 

At the lowest low we took you to the doctor. It’s a weird thing because on the one hand, my mother intuition assured me that it was just a cold but on the other hand, what if it was more? I couldn’t handle the thought of you being super sick and me being dismissive (plus your dad is a full blown hypochondriac) so off we went. 

Of course, it was just a cold but we had to weigh you while we were there and Baby, you are so tiny! You weighed 10 pounds with your clothes on. You are almost 6 months old and you weigh as much as most baby’s do in their first month of life. 

I know babies that were born at close to 10 pounds and here you are, the tiniest peanut. You look like a very alert and capable newborn. 

To be honest, it has never bothered me. Sure, I have to hear “she’s so small” from literally everyone we meet but whatever. I’m weak so that you are small works well with lifting you. I find it adorable that you are so petit and we have actually made the best use of baby clothes in the history of mankind. 

You are still rocking some newborn size gear. That’s 5.5 months of wear. Unheard of. Mind you, it will be a while before you fit into all that 6 month and up clothing that you have but it can just wait. 

So anyways, you get weighed and put on your growth chart and we find that you are a pound off from where you should be (in the whopping 3rd percentile category). Doctor says you should def gain a pound this month or she will refer us to a specialist to make sure you are ok. 

The tests you would go through are labeled “failure to thrive.” Please be more fucking ominous. 

She recommended feeding you more and possibly supplementing you with some formula. 

Here are the two things I have been thinking. 

1. Failure to thrive has to be the worst fucking name for a series of tests ever. Plus, how can you be failing to thrive? You have (thankfully) done everything a baby should do just in your own tiny way. 

They really have to think about the names of these tests. Like, way to fear monger. How about “tests to make sure your baby is absorbing her nutrients” or “tests to ensure that your baby’s gastro system is ok” or “tests to confirm that she is in fact just a small baby.”

Fuck you, failure to thrive. 

2. Formula is a really touchy subject for a mom who has spent 5.5 months agonizing over breast feeding. I personally don’t give a shit how you feed your babe. It’s all the same to me. I was formula fed and ended up just fine. BUT. I have spent too much fucking time and effort on breastfeeding to be told that I am not doing a good enough job. Literal blood sweat and tears. Listen, at the end of the day Baby, I do what is best for you but I’ll be damned if I don’t find the suggestion to be a personal attack. 

Plus, the day I finally decided to try formula for you I went to Whole Foods. They carry one formula and one formula only. I felt like the organic hemp mama society was shaming me for even considering formula by having such sparse availability. Dramatic? Yes. True? Probs not. Didn’t buy the formula? Obviously. 

So here’s the lesson today. Don’t go to the doctor when you are sick. JUST KIDDING. PLEASE DONT DO THAT. 

The lesson is that things sometimes don’t go as planned. You can make a million plans and calculate every move but life has a funny way of just dumping a load of formula on your lap no matter what you do. 

So be flexible and know that there are 100 great ways to achieve any great goal and trying new things and different paths is sometimes great (even if you fucking slave at making the first thing work and totally sacrifice your boobs forever). 

So in he words of Seymore when he bled for his precious plant, “please, grow for me.”

xo

Mom