Saturday, January 12, 2008

Six months

It's past my bedtime, but I had to write a quick entry in honor of le Petit's six month birthday. So it's been six months since the journey began. I see it more as three sleepless weeks that lasted a year, followed by five more panic-filled weeks that lasted six months, followed by four months of joy that went by in a heartbeat. He's growing up so quickly now, I feel like I'm running as fast I can not to miss a moment. If I have this much trouble keeping up with him now, what will it be when his only method of self-propulsion is no longer simply rolling himself sideways across the floor?

As you would expect, he's working on crawling with all of his stubborn determination we've learned to love. He's figured out that he needs to push up on his hands and on his knees at the same time but isn't sure what to do next, so he usually just collapses into a neat roll onto his back. Alternating arms and legs are a conceptual leap he has yet to make, and I haven't finished babyproofing the house, so I'm not hurrying him. For now, I spread out a large beach towel on the floor in his room for him to practice and lie down next to him to cheer him on.

I, for one, am feeling much better today. On my pediatrician's advice I called a lactation specialist at the hospital and got some advice on treating my plugged duct, and also talked to a breastfeeding geek friend of mine. The lactation specialist, a children's nurse who I'd gone to before for advice and trust, was reassuring and told me I could come in for a visit if I needed to on Monday. I'm relieved, because now I know where to get professional breastfeeding support should I need it.

One of the self-treatment measures is, you guessed it, rest. So what am I doing awake, you ask, in direct violation of my new year's resolution? Okay, okay, T-O B-E-D it is for me.

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