I found out at the doctor's office this morning that you are starving. In the last month you didn't even gain a pound. You're almost ten weeks old and only weigh 8 pounds, 5 ounces. I knew you were little, but I actually gasped when I saw the reading on the scale. I even asked the nurse to weigh you again. The same numbers stared back. Not even a pound in a month. That's bad, little girl!
I guess I'm so busy with everything going on at our house that I didn't pay enough attention to your growth. You're so content, and besides your weight, your developmental benchmarks are right on track. You can hold up your head, move your arms and legs, and smile all the time. You are awake more often and sleeping well at night. In my estimation, your nursing has been great from the start. It really never occurred to me that you were hungry.
But apparently my notion of the status quo is way off kilter. You're falling off the growth charts. You aren't getting enough calories. Your improved sleep has likely come because you're too exhausted to do anything else. Your doctor couldn't have been nicer about the whole thing, but I'm pretty devastated that I've let you down...and that I've been totally ignorant of the shortfall.
It turns out all my excitement for giving you a bottle has turned into a prescription. You are supposed to take a bottle after every nursing session in order to boost your calorie intake. You need to gain weight; you need to catch up. I'm not sure how we'll manage the new regimen. It will require a lot more time and effort! But I look forward to watching you grow...