updates on the kids!

Today I am officially in the third trimester! 2/3 down, 1/3 to go. Wesley celebrated the way he celebrates everything–by kicking me in the spleen.

Mary had her checkup on Wednesday. She weighs 23 pounds and is 33 inches tall, which makes her tall and thin for her age. We told her not to worry; it’ll pass. We’re trying, on the pediatrician’s advice, to cut back her milk-drinking (we had to ask for advisement because we were having no luck at all…she just really prefers it to eating actual food). So now she’s getting diluted milk. She’s not thrilled about it but she’s drinking it. I expect this to mean that she will actually eat more solid foods, which should be interesting since she likes a lot of things but only eats a bite or two of them. Unless it’s french fries we’re talking about, in which case she eats her weight in a single sitting, like a seagull. The doctor was apparently really impressed by her yammering and declared that her verbal development was great.

Conor took her to this appointment, so I didn’t go. I was feeling like I’d dodged a bullet, because she HATES the doctor and is always totally hysterical, screaming and crying, often until she makes herself sick. So I was feeling totally okay about Conor doing it this time. But then the doctor wanted to have blood drawn (both because we asked what we could try to feed her that has iron in it, since she won’t eat red meat or greens or anything, and apparently the thing to do is just to check her iron level before worrying about it, and because she was bitten by a tick and they can do a blood test for Lyme disease).

So Conor took her across the street to the lab. She was hysterical as soon as they put the little rubber strap around her arm, and the techs were TERRIBLE. They were slow–which is a cardinal sin when you’re doing something unpleasant to a baby–and not very good at it. They found a vein, apparently, but when they tried to draw the blood the vein collapsed or whatever and they couldn’t do it. They told Conor to bring her back the next day. They were apparently pretty accusatory at Mary. They called her “combative.” She’s one and a half!

So in other words, I had to take her after all (this is what I get for exulting quietly because I didn’t have to go). We chose a different lab location and went yesterday. They wouldn’t even try to find a vein or anything because she was so upset as soon as they started to put on the cuff.

I guess this means that we have to take her to the outpatient clinic at the hospital nearby, where they have excellent pediatric lab techs. I hope they’re good at it, because I’m jumping through a bazillion hoops to get insurance to cover it. But I really can’t imagine trying to take her back to one of those labs. They’re terrible at dealing with kids and babies. It’s like they don’t see that she’s scared. Honestly, how can you think that a kid too young to even understand what you’re doing is just crying to be difficult? Poor kid. But we sort of have to have it done, because I’m really worried about the tick bite (especially since most of the Lyme disease symptoms are things that she can’t tell us about, like achy limbs).

Anyway, despite the blood-drawing drama, she is very healthy. She has started blowing kisses a lot, which is ridiculously cute.


One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Nina on April 8, 2008 at 6:00 pm

    Combative? How do they expect a kid who’s not yet two to understand that sticking her with a needle is beneficial?! I can barely stand it myself! If it’s any consolation, the only people we have EVER found to be competent at sticking babies and toddlers are the pediatric nurses at Holy Cross, when Jack got his monthly IV. There was one nurse who got it the first time, every time. Toward the end of our trips there, the nurses would refuse to let the residents, who were supposed to try sticking the kids, into the room with Jack. The residents were invariably horrible. There was one woman who couldn’t even restrain him. (Heather Svoboda taught us tricks for that, so even David and I knew how to do that better than the residents.)

    Wanna hear something hilarious? Riley weighs more than Mary! He’s 25 pounds. The crazy thing is that you look at him and think, yeah, he’s a big boy, but then you go pick him up and fall over. (One of Molly’s friend’s fathers went to pick him up and lost his balance!) This phenomenon has lead to the teachers at the kids’ daycare and us making up funny nicknames for Riley. Red dwarf (because of his sheer mass, he’s going to collapse in on himself) and Red Zepplin (that’s David’s) are the latest. (Red because of the hair obviously.)


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