On the Downhill

This morning we unexpectedly found ourselves at our pediatrician's. Though Otter's 9 month appointment was scheduled for the following Friday, she decided that she had better things to do that day. So after being suspiciously itchy, we landed at the doctor's office.

Of course, Dr. L found nothing wrong with her. If you read a note of disappointment, it's only because I knew she was fine, but, being a good parent called the nurse at the office and was told to come in anyway. Now I couldn't not go in, lest I be labeled "irresponsible," authorities be called and Otter be raised in foster care. (As a side note, I am becoming increasingly confused by the function of an on-call nurse, if all the advice ends with "You should bring her in." Though, to play my own devil's advocate, they were quite helpful during the poopy embargo.)

On the upside, after confirming Otter was in perfect health and telling me to soak her in a bath, Dr. L did kindly agree to do her 9 month exam at the same time, saving me a trip next Friday. So after a late start, I finally headed off to the office.

It's hard to believe, but come 6 pm today (or 4:15 pm, let's be honest) I am once again a lady of leisure. While I'm making the necessary noises about looking for work, the truth is I'm looking forward to a little time to hang out with Otter.

More importantly, I've made it over the hump - not only am I 3/4 of the way through the American Academy of Pediatrics' recommended year of breast-feeding, I have survived the struggle of exclusively nursing while at work. Since I've oft-detailed the trials and tribulations of that arrangement, I won't bore you with the petty details. Suffice it to say, after endlessly stressing over whether I'd produce enough, pump enough, survive long enough, etc., I return to the leisure life with 13 packets of backup milk still hanging out in the freezer.

Not to toot my own horn (since I'm not done just yet, and it's obnoxious...) but, go me.