Last weekend my girl Tanya and I went to the outlet mall in Woodburn for a little sweet, sweet discount shopping. It was the longest Zephyr and I have been away from the house (4 or 5 hours), and he behaved commendably. On the way, Tanya pumped milk using the power source from my car, and we joked about how it feels like we're cheating on our babies when we pump. It's true, right? I always hunker down and wait until he's napping before I get out the pump, lest he smell my milk from across the room and get offended that it's not directly for him. It is for him, though, just so Scott can feed him.
And on the other side of that coin, why do I get jealous when he's being fed from a bottle? Last week Scott took him in the morning so I could sleep in a bit, and when I came downstairs he was giving Zephyr a bottle. For some reason, my milk started to let down and I felt a little possessive of Zeph and took ownership over his sustenance, even though Scott is doing me a huge service by taking over for an hour and giving my tits a break. So weird.
We had his two-month Well Baby checkup last week, and turns out he's above the 99th percentile for weight (at 14.3 lbs) and length (at 25.25"). He got most of his vaccinations - I opted for all of the ones that prevent particularly virulent diseases that actually do still float around. His howls of pain broke my heart in two, especially after I had clipped his fingertip with the nail clippers when I tried to trim his nails earlier that day. Poor baby. I was happy that he comforted easily, but I still experience such a visceral response to his guttural cries. I can feel my blood pressure raise and my eyes mist up, and I feel desperate to protect him.
His herniated belly button had been bugging me ever since his cord fell off (at 5 weeks - very late, I think). We had taken him in and had it checked, but his regular doc (Christine Martin) wasn't working that day and the other one said to just apply hydrogen peroxide and keep an eye on it. I told her I thought it was a granuloma, and she said it wasn't (she said this since "it isn't red like a granuloma"). Well, Dr. Martin confirmed my suspicion and hit his belly with a little silver nitrate to dry it up. Thank goodness for that, because that oozy little flesh nubbin had been freaking me out for weeks.
His sleep cycles have been going through fits and starts, too. Tuesday, he slept pretty well from having had such a rough day at the pediatrician's office (and the vaccines really took it out of him). Thursday and Friday, he gave us two nights in a row of sleeping 5.5 and 5 hours, respectively. Last night he slept for 4 hours, but we went to bed later than normal and that mat have had something to do with it. We're still trying to figure out if there's any cause and effect there.
On Wednesday he was being such a pill - no nap all day, fussing all the way until 10:30pm - that we finally just gave him a squirt of baby Tylenol. I felt sort of guilty, like I was drugging him to get to sleep, but I figure he must've been fussy for a reason, like the shots the previous day, or because his lower gums are a little swollen. That's right. At two months, he's already showing the first signs of teething.
Speaking of guilt, does any ever find the time to be 100% engaged with their baby during those precious "quiet-alert" stages of consciousness? Sometimes I take that opportunity to interact with him, singing my favorite Grizzly Bear songs or giving him some tummy time or a bath, but sometimes I just take advantage of not needing to give him a boob (or other techniques for trying to get him down for a nap), and just park him in his Pack 'N Play to stare at his owl mobile. He seems happy enough, cracking up at them, and I always take him out again if he gets bored, but I feel like I'm being a terrible mother for needing a break. Like when I peruse the internet with one hand on my iPhone while I'm breastfeeding instead of gazing into his eyes. He won't remember such egregious acts of neglect, right?
I got an IUD inserted last week, too. I love this little guy so much, and would be devastated to let someone steal his thunder too soon.