We had to take Olivia in yesterday to have her weight re-checked because she hadn’t made it back to birth weight at her two-week visit. Well, I am proud and unsurprised to announce that she is now 9 lbs and 15 oz. That’s right, just barely under ten pounds. I guess that’s what happens when you’re finally eating what you aren’t going to throw up. Her doc was delighted and a little stunned by the sudden upswing. She doesn’t have a definitive reason as to why Olivia couldn’t tolerate my breastmilk but believes it might be a milk allergy like her mommy and uncle (i.e. myself and my brother, Matt) had when we were babies.
I am now in the process of shutting down the milk factory (ouch). Which is a good thing as yesterday, while I was sneaking in a shower, I looked down to see a stream of blood. I freaked out for a few seconds thinking my incision had dehisced. Nope. My left nipple had cracked. Again, ouch. Oh well, no more of that in my future.
My mother-in-law and her sister are coming up for a visit today. They are going to babysit Olive while I run out to lunch with my friend Julie. I’m so terribly excited! Lunch. Out. With an adult. Yeah, we’re likely to only discuss our kids and the intricacies of parenting. But I’m going out!
It gets better. I’m getting together with another good friend next week. Laurie and I are going to have a playdate at either her or my house. Playdate being a euphemism for us getting together and having lunch and good conversation. My child will likely sleep through it all. Her boy, Shaw, will likely get some tummy time in and enjoy one of our laps.
Oh. Crap. I’m domesticated….