Fat Bottomed Girl (One Month Dr. Appt.)

That's my Fat Bottomed Girl and her Snoopy Bandaid!

Growing up quickly and on schedule...

Yesterday we had Emma Vance's one month check up (just a few days shy of her real one month birthday). We started out the day with a bang--or rather a barf--as E.V. had her first real projectile vomit, which happened as I carried her between the nursery and our master bedroom...landing in my hair...and down my shoulder...and straight down my leg to my foot...and onto the carpet...and on the wall. Yep, the wall. Oh, joy. It was first thing in the morning, and my yelp woke Ryan up with such fear that he rushed to my side, assuming something life threatening had happened (which, in a way, it had). Well, consider me broken in.

We planned on bathing her right before the appointment, but she was so peacefully asleep that I decided that I didn't care if the doctor thought she smelled a little rancid and resolved to skip it. In fact, we even skipped the opportunity to get dressed up and opted to wear our footy pajamas in public. E.V. was passed out all the way to the office and while in the waiting room. Then, of course, she had to get undressed to be weighed, and, like any female, she was not happy about the prospect. So, in retaliation, she decided to pull what we've deemed her "super squirt." (Moms, you know the one: the baby's bare-bottomed on the changing table when they realize that it's the perfect moment to projectile poop across, and most likely off, the table.) In fact, she super squirted so hard that it shot right past the scale's raised sides onto the floor. Oops. Then, of course, she continued to pee and super squirt continuously so long that the nurse left us and asked me to call him back when she was done and all cleaned up. Perfect.


Emma Vance was a little perturbed by this point, especially since her bout with the scale ended with a temperature taking "down there," and decided to cry while we were in the exam room waiting on the doctor. Sorry surrounding rooms!

Annoyed (with reason)

Really, I couldn't blame her for making a racket...

Thankfully E.V. was calm and happy by the time the doctor met with us. The gist of the appointment was that she's healthy and happy and on-target. In fact, she had gained so much weight since leaving the hospital that the doctor got a little wide-eyed. She's gained a net of 1 lb. 10 oz. in about three weeks, landing her in the 75th percentile at 9 lb. 11 oz. (exactly 1 lb. from her birth weight). As she was talking through this weight gain with me, the song "Fat Bottomed Girls" kept running through my head. (Bad mom! :) ) Her head size is 38.4 cm, in the 95th percentile, and her height is 21 1/8", in the 50th percentile. Ryan had to work, so afterwards I called him and joked that we have a fat, smart, average height baby. (Hey, can't complain!) The doctor commented on how pretty she is, and, not surprisingly, how crazy her hair is.

Smiling for the doctor in her footy pajamas...and with her crazy hair!

As per her usual mischievousness, E.V. refused to show the doctor how great of a head-holder-upper she is. So, I of course looked like an anxious stage mom, repeating, "I swear she does it all the time at home!" several times. But she did demonstrate her natural urge to crawl and roll, and overall there were no concerns. E.V.'s pre-exam crying did give the doctor the chance to examine her tear duct a little more, and she seems to think it's just narrow and will correct itself naturally.

In the hospital, we declined the Hep B shot so that we could follow our modified shot schedule. After our initial visit to the doctor, they directed me to some research I hadn't read before, and after some consideration, we've decided to follow the recommended schedule more closely (although, admittedly, not exactly). So, unfortunately, I had to be there for her Hep B shot, and it was so pitiful. I held her little hands, and she cried a bit, intuitively knowing something bad was about to happen. She screamed for about 10 seconds, and then it was over, leaving just a Snoopy Bandaid as her only evidence of the shot. Whew. At least that's over with!

Every time we have a doctor's appointment, I get nervous that she's not gaining weight or that some issue will come up, and so far we've been pleasantly surprised by her consistent, healthy development. Answered prayers!