Making Weight

Today Otter was going back to the doctor's to get her second round of vaccines, but also to do a weigh-in. On our last visit, it was deemed that she was too petite (though as I argued then, she was only 6 lbs to begin with, and probably screwed herself by gaining too much weight in her first 2 weeks) and needed to have a clinical eye kept on her.

The anticipation was pretty intense. I mean, no one wants to hear that their child is "failing to thrive," a phrase that implies all kinds of complications of the most serious kind. Images of malnourished babies with sunken eyes and yellow skin run rampant through the mind's eye. And considering it's my job to keep boob firmly planted in mouth, providing nutritious goodness to my helpless infant, the imaginary finger points squarely at me. Any excuses a could (and did) come up with sounded hollow at best: "She's not quite 2 months yet..." (splitting hairs); "I can't help it if she's bulimic..." (pathetic and low). Let's face it - "failure" is the operative word here.

So as not to risk getting reprimanded in that doctorly way again, I entertained several plans to help Otter make weight. The fact that she is allowed to remain in her diaper afforded us several options:

1) Hide weights in there - something small, like ball bearings, bb gun pellets or fishing line sinkers.
2) Don't change the overnight diaper. That's probably a good 2-3 lbs right there!
3) Borrow our neighbor's baby for the appointment. (She was born at a healthy 9 lbs, 5 oz.)

In the end, we decided to just cross our fingers and arrive as is, no hidden weights. Though I did feed her right before the appointment, and sternly warned her not to spit any of it up. If weighing her after a meal is anything like getting me on the scale after dinner, we had a fighting chance.

Otter was shown back to the examination room and told to strip down to her skivvies. Putting on brave face and the innocent look of those with nothing to hide, we faced the music. Like a prizefighter moments before his bout, Otter approached the scales. Time stood still… I could hear the theme from Rocky in the background…

Having weighed in at 8 lbs, 10 oz on her previous visit, and accounting for a gain of about a pound/month, we were aiming for the over 9 1/2, but possibly under 10 lb range. The scale was set to 9 lbs as Otter was plopped down… It remained unbalanced. Could it be?

We left the office triumphantly, having gained 11 ounces BEYOND our expectations. Take that, failure to thrive. We’re 10 lbs, 5 oz., bitch.

Oh, and Hepatitis B, Polio – consider yourselves on notice. Otter’s been vaccinated against you.

image by bfurnace