Doctoral Studies

Last week, Bigfella went to the doctor. He weighed in at 19 pounds, one ounce, 27 inches long. His head was 17 and a half inches in circumference. So, he is still off the charts in height and weight, but, in comparison, his head is a wee peahead at the 75th percentile. The doc said nothing about starting solids or giving supplements. He told us to just keep breastfeeding.

Earlier this week, I had a doctor's appointment. i am having the old gallbladder out on July 6th. The surgeon wrote a prescription for a double electric breastpump for me, though I don't know that the insurance company is going to cover it. They said they might, but that they only automatically cover them for latch issues or if baby is in the NICU and mom gets discharged.

But, after spending the better part of the day on the phone with the insurance company, the lactation consultant at the hospital told me that even with general anesthesia and narcotic painkillers, I can breastfeed as soon as I am out of the recovery room. I didn't believe her, so I called the ped's office for a second opinion. The LC there backed up the hospital LC.

But, the important thing is that the morning of my doctor's appointment, I was coordinating a Day of Action for gay rights and left the house at 6 am. So, Bigfella stayed home with Dyke Two. The two of them met me at my appointment after having breakfast with a friend. The nurse brought them into the exam room, and Bigfella was wearing a pair of socks that I haven't seen in well over a month. The heels of the socks were resting comfortably on the arches of his feet. I took him out of the stroller and looked at his outfit. He was wearing cute striped pants and his HRC baby onesie. I did a double take. His cute little pants were so small that they were actually a pair of manpris.

But Dyke Two was so proud of her baby-dressing skills that I just smiled and said, "Where the hell did you find those pants and socks? Didn't you notice that your son was wearing clothes that were too small???"