Today Veronica is six months old, and here's her new measurements:
Her head measures in the 65th percentile.
Her weight is in the 40th percentile, at 15 lbs.
Her length is in the 85th percentile, at 26.75 inches.
So yeah, she's long and skinny. The doctor's saying she now gets solid foods three times a day, oatmeal to replace the rice cereal. What can I say? My little baby's growing up. I already look at her and wonder what happened to my floppy, squishy, tiny little newborn, the one who could not smile nor laugh, the one who cried but could not coo. And yet it seems like there was never a time she couldn't hold her head up, or reach for the cat, or roll over onto her belly.
The doctor checked out her muscles too, as she still doesn't hold herself up on her arms, cannot sit up anywhere on her own, and doesn't lock her legs when you hold her up with her feet on the floor. The doctor's diagnosis? She's healthy, her muscles are fine, she's just...lazy. Yes, the doctor said "lazy." I don't appreciate this assessment - my mom's been calling me lazy all my life, and I can't say it's done me any favors - but I'm relieved that she's OK. I prefer to think she's just moving at her own pace, that when she feels like locking her legs or scooting forward then she will.
In other baby news, and as an update to my previous post: Zane is still in Children's Hospital. The diagnosis was the best case scenario of all they were offered: He just wasn't getting enough to eat. Anne was solely breastfeeding, and she just wasn't producing enough milk anymore.
However, the solution to this problem remains elusive. Anne has tried to give Zane formula before, and is trying again now; he just can't figure out how to work a bottle. Even tricks to make him think he's still breastfeeding don't work, as he refuses to eat the formula. Apparently he just can't stand the taste of it. Since Saturday he's had a feeding tube down his little nose, having formula pumped straight down his little throat.
His discharge date was originally around Sunday, then Monday. Then Tuesday. Now, they're saying at least another week, as they try to get Anne's milk production back up again. I'd say that's a risky proposition, as she could just as easily stop producing again, but the doctors really don't know what else to do. We're running down to see them again tonight, bringing some supplies and such. Fortunately, Anne not only has us in the area, but also her and Jason's sister Lynn and her best friend Tina. And Zane is getting better; the almost emaciated, sad little baby I saw Friday night, the one who made me cry at the sight of him, has been replaced with a little boy who stands solid when you hold him, lunges for his cousin Veronica, smiles when his mommy makes faces at him and blows raspberries at his daddy. That being said, though, the entire situation is sad, is scary, and makes me hold Veronica just that much tighter, give her that many more kisses, treasure that many more little smiles.
Her head measures in the 65th percentile.
Her weight is in the 40th percentile, at 15 lbs.
Her length is in the 85th percentile, at 26.75 inches.
So yeah, she's long and skinny. The doctor's saying she now gets solid foods three times a day, oatmeal to replace the rice cereal. What can I say? My little baby's growing up. I already look at her and wonder what happened to my floppy, squishy, tiny little newborn, the one who could not smile nor laugh, the one who cried but could not coo. And yet it seems like there was never a time she couldn't hold her head up, or reach for the cat, or roll over onto her belly.
The doctor checked out her muscles too, as she still doesn't hold herself up on her arms, cannot sit up anywhere on her own, and doesn't lock her legs when you hold her up with her feet on the floor. The doctor's diagnosis? She's healthy, her muscles are fine, she's just...lazy. Yes, the doctor said "lazy." I don't appreciate this assessment - my mom's been calling me lazy all my life, and I can't say it's done me any favors - but I'm relieved that she's OK. I prefer to think she's just moving at her own pace, that when she feels like locking her legs or scooting forward then she will.
In other baby news, and as an update to my previous post: Zane is still in Children's Hospital. The diagnosis was the best case scenario of all they were offered: He just wasn't getting enough to eat. Anne was solely breastfeeding, and she just wasn't producing enough milk anymore.
However, the solution to this problem remains elusive. Anne has tried to give Zane formula before, and is trying again now; he just can't figure out how to work a bottle. Even tricks to make him think he's still breastfeeding don't work, as he refuses to eat the formula. Apparently he just can't stand the taste of it. Since Saturday he's had a feeding tube down his little nose, having formula pumped straight down his little throat.
His discharge date was originally around Sunday, then Monday. Then Tuesday. Now, they're saying at least another week, as they try to get Anne's milk production back up again. I'd say that's a risky proposition, as she could just as easily stop producing again, but the doctors really don't know what else to do. We're running down to see them again tonight, bringing some supplies and such. Fortunately, Anne not only has us in the area, but also her and Jason's sister Lynn and her best friend Tina. And Zane is getting better; the almost emaciated, sad little baby I saw Friday night, the one who made me cry at the sight of him, has been replaced with a little boy who stands solid when you hold him, lunges for his cousin Veronica, smiles when his mommy makes faces at him and blows raspberries at his daddy. That being said, though, the entire situation is sad, is scary, and makes me hold Veronica just that much tighter, give her that many more kisses, treasure that many more little smiles.
posted by Maranie @ 12:23 PM
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