Plato is not just a lover of wisdom, but a Pegasus is also a real animal. When Jonah was reciting a paragraph about a Pegasus I explained that is was a pretend animal – a horse with wings.
“No, it’s not a pretend animal. It’s a winged horse that pulled a chariot up into the sky.”
Although Silas came into this world on the small side, those extra two weeks in utero (compared to Jonah and Benjamin) made all the difference in his development. We didn’t have to spend 6 weeks teaching him how to eat. If you’ve never had to teach a baby how to suck, swallow, and breathe at the same time – trust me: Not Fun.
However, since Jonathan and I are apparently genetically incapable of producing normal, healthy offspring, Silas still had a lot of pain.
It took 6 weeks to diagnose his GERD, get him on Prevacid, then double the dose. So that decreased his pain in his life for about half (and in the last two weeks, we’ve been able to decrease his Prevacid by 25% since he is already beginning to outgrow the reflux).
Then the combination of modifying the nursing approach (which we only had to do for a couple of weeks until he increased his eating time to about 15 minutes) along with a daily ounce of prune juice reduced his gas pain significantly. [Now we are left with just a bit of colic that should dissipate in another week or two.]
Let me illustrate with a handy “Curing The Pain of Silas Pie Chart.”
So... after being held non-stop for the first three months of his life because as of all this pain, Silas is now learning that the world doesn’t stop turning if he is put down for a while.
He doesn’t like learning this.
He would prefer not to learn this.
Silas envisions his days snuggled in a sling, listening to loud music, in constant motion, taking cat naps throughout the day, and having the pacifier popped back in the minute it falls out. Because for three months this combination usually soothed the baby known around here as RageBoy.
But now we have Bouncy Seat Time, Mobile-Watching-In-Crib Time, Stroller Time, and – to his great dismay – Cry-It-Out-In-Your-Crib Time. When he begins to get fussy and sleepy, I rock him until his eyelids are heavy, then plop him into his crib. Which most of the time prompts a screaming fit lasting 5-30 minutes. I come in every few minutes to pat his squirmy little bottom – perhaps pick him up for a minute, perhaps insert the pacifier – then leave.
And, inspired by Glee (still haven’t seen it; still want to!), he belts out: “IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT…” and I chime in with: “…and I feel fine!” and do a little shimmy dance because it feels so good not to be lugging around 11 extra pounds all day.
Silas is not amused.
Jonathan had this brilliant idea of me flying alone with the boys in a few weeks. I answered him in haiku form:
Fly alone with them?
I would rather flush my head,
Thank you very much.
Saturday, November 14, 2009 at 12:00PM
