Monday, February 11, 2013
That's where I go during times like this. Moments when B is ill and I'm exhausted. Down that PTSD rabbit hole where babies get sick and don't recover. Where every simple illness is death in disguise. J takes it in stride while I fret and try not to cry.
The doctor said he's okay. We are to continue on the course set forth by the naturopath. Keep him hydrated, keep him comfortable, breastfeed. When we arrived home and he threw up less than two minutes after nursing I nearly called the doctor in a panic. I feel so ill equipped in situations like this. I want another adult present at all times because I don't feel capable. I can't believe I'm mama and therefore I'm supposed to know what to do. And apparently crying in the corner until J comes home is not a recommended course.
B has dropped to 16.8 lbs. He was 17.5 lbs in December. 17.1 on Thursday. The doctor we saw today - B's pediatrician - said she's glad we're working with a naturopath because she doesn't know how to help. We have one month to turn things around. If he doesn't gain weight it will be time to run tests. Every doctor we see says, "I have no problem with small babies but this, but this ..." Then they look at his chart and frown.
And all of those frowns hurt just a little because I'm his mama and helping him grow via good nutrition is basic, but I can't seem to manage it. And all these worries roll off J because he has a daddy soul. And those daddy souls are sensitive, but strong, while mama souls are more jumbled, full of ribbon and steel, easily punctured by words and perceptions.
This is day five. I haven't slept well for nearly a week. I am trying to breathe and rest in Jesus.
fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.