Weight and See...

Ha! Ok, so Jack went for his 2 month check up on Friday. First of all, 2 months? It seems like it's been longer, but it also seems like we just brought him home! Crazy.

I'll gloss over the insurance snafu and the fact that my poor baby got his immunizations (those needles are not small...neither is the wail they produce!) and skip straight to the part where they measure and weigh my little one. First off, way to grow, Jack! Last time we went, which was a month ago, he was 21.75 inches long. This month? 23 inches long! Watch out! That puts him in the 75th percentile in length! He must get that from his Aunt Kat.

Then it's time to weigh him. Now, he's a skinny baby, I know that. When I try to put a Gap onesie on him, it snaps perfectly in length...and there's about 2 extra inches on each side of him for the width! So I know he's skinny. Well, the nurse weighs him and he's 9 lbs 6 oz. He was 8 lbs 13 oz at our last appointment. That's not a lot of weight gain in a month.

So the Dr comes in and talks to me about it and says I'm not producing enough milk and we need to start supplementing with formula to put some meat on this baby's bones. Ok, I'm fine with that. Give him an oz or 2 after I feed him. No big deal.

In the past 3 days, after my son has nursed for 20ish minutes, Jeff has been giving him a bottle. Um. A whole bottle. Like 5 or 6 ounces! OMG!! He should be eating between 4 and 6 oz TOTAL! What have I been doing to this poor child? Starving him? Good Lord. Poor baby.

No wonder nursing has become the biggest thorn in my side lately. He's been crying when I try to put him on, stops and starts about a million times, sounds like he's not swallowing...and I've been getting mad at him because I thought he was just being lazy! Now I know it's that there was no reward for all the trouble and frustration. He's crying out of frustration just like I am!

So I think we're on the way out of nursing. I tried, I tried. To no avail. So, alas, my son will soon become a formula fed baby. And I must confess, part of me is dancing a jig. I told Jeff, it's not worth it for me to frustrated with him 6 times a day and have Jack freaking out and throwing a fit each time, when he's not even getting half of what he needs. Oh, I'll pump for a little while longer, as much as I can. But for the sake of everyone involved, Jeff included, we've got to do something!

Part of me is happy. My baby's more well fed, he's gaining weight, he's full, I'm not starving him any more! But then the other part of me feels like I could have done more. What could I have done? I don't know. But in the end, it is what it is, and honestly, a bottle is a lot easier than the boob.

So we go back on Friday to see if he's gaining weight, which I'm sure he has. I'll be happy to have a healthy and some what chubby baby!