Peds

Little D had her first visit to the pediatrician yesterday, and it went well!

It was during this visit that I realized something: I LOVE breastfeeding.

I already knew that it made me feel close to D, and that I was still enjoying it even though she's made my nipples sore (seriously. Ouch.). But during the visit, she started to get a little fussy, and since it was time to feed her anyway.... (I mean let's face it, she's 5 days old, any time she wants it means it's time) I just whipped out a boob and popped it in her mouth.

Then the doctor came in, and we did the full history with her eating. She was quiet and content. And when we got to the physical exam, she was a little sleepy and very relaxed, and barely cried at all. Even when the doctor tested her Moro reflex.

Things were a little more awkward when she started howling again as we were waiting to get blood drawn so she could have her bilirubin checked. There were a bunch of people in the waiting room and I felt like I should at least attempt to cover up. I am not coordinated enough at the process to both get a good latch AND be discrete, but with some help from Luca we were able to pull off something that was probably just modest enough. I didn't actually care THAT much though. It's amazing what being a little tired and showing your vagina and breasts to the entire world during L&D does to a girl's sense of modesty.

Anyway, while we were there, a woman who looked to be about our age emerged from an exam room with an adorable 12 day old baby. The baby's mom was a few steps behind her and was probably about 16 or so. It made me feel so sad. I wondered whether grandma and mom felt the same way about their baby as Luca and I feel about mine. Then I felt really guilty and judgmental for thinking that at all. I mean, why wouldn't they feel the same way? On the other hand, teen motherhood is clearly not optimal for anyone. I don't know.... I'm chalking it up to the hormones, but that's mostly because I don't know what I'm supposed to say about these things. Everything that comes to mind seems condescending, judgmental, and counterproductive, so perhaps it's best if I say nothing at all.

Then we went to Chipotle, where I wanted to seriously smack the excessively perky girl who makes the burritos. She remembered Luca and me, and I guess was trying to show us that she knew "our" order. Except that I got something different than usual, and was feeling poozely from my excursion, my hemoglobin of 7.something, and my recent surgery, and I didn't feel like laughing at her comments, which are annoying even when I'm not feeling like garbage. She tends to get a little confrontational if you don't go along with her act. Suffice to say we got out of there quickly, and fortunately before I said anything offensive.

I spent most of today in the house feeling much better than yesterday, but still completely unprepared to face the real world. A walk around the block was about all I could handle. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm still only post-operative day #5, and I'm allowed to feel like crap and not want to talk to anyone.