Here in the B-W household, we are experiencing a variety of weight issues. While mommy struggles to not hate the mirror, baby is struggling to gain weight. We went to the pediatrician yesterday with Aunt K who was here visiting. Unfortunately, Samara only gained 3 ounces since last week (boo, hiss). She is still not up to birth weight at 2 weeks and five days old (boo, hiss again). This is not a good thing. Luckily my pediatrician is not an alarmist because I so would have lost it had she been too critical.
My new charge is to feed her at least every two hours, which essentially means there is nary a moment that does not have the little lamphrey latched on to my breast. I am fine with this. We have another appointment on Thursday to see if she is faring any better weight-wise. When I was young, I know my pediatrician used to also ask my mother if I was eating (I, too, was a scrawny little thing who was always at least a foot shorter and 20 pounds lighter than my friends). Eventually, I caught up when I hit puberty. But I would like Samara to catch up sooner. Why can't I just share some of my fat? Then we would all be happy.
In my own news, I can barely fit into any of my old clothes. They will not go over my thighs. I know people keep telling me I will lose the weight, but I have nothing to wear and I am not going to go out and buy clothes in bigger sizes. But my secret terror is that my bone structure has altered and I will never fit into my old clothes again. Is that paranoid? Maybe. I know I am supposed to be patient (boo, hiss). I did run the full three miles today, though. I guess things are looking up.