Monday's Child

29 Weeks

I haven't been ignoring you guys, I promise. We've just been very preoccupied around here. Violet is 29 weeks old today! She celebrated by visiting the pediatrician because the girl has been having some, ahem, going problems. Daddy the Hero took her in, got her checked out, bought her medicine, administered it (not a task for the faint of heart) and then dropped her off at daycare today. Whew! He's quite the Daddy! 

Violet is feeling much better, thank goodness. I've never been so obsessed with anything in my life. I spent the whole weekend feeling sick to my stomach, knowing poor Violet was not feeling good (although bless her heart, she was as cheerful and happy as could be for the most part). It was wrenching having to listen to her struggle in pain. Poop. Such a little, natural, taken for granted thing. Until it gets stuck. We tried everything. Apple juice. Pears, peaches, prunes. Bicycling the legs. Tummy massages. Anyway, this is way more detail than anyone needs. Suffice to say, I think we got things moving again.

Other than that, things are good. Violet's little tooth is getting more pronounced each day. It also gets sharper every day, to the point that it's no longer cute to let her gnaw on my knuckles. Yeeowch! Next week she'll be seven months old and that means she gets to try meats for the first time; I already stocked up on some new flavors during the Publix BOGO sale. Speaking of food, we used the last bag of frozen breast milk today. The stash is officially depleted. I now have a freezer again! I'm going to be honest though, I was a little sad. Extremely proud of myself for being able to give Violet so much breastmilk for so long, but it is the end of an era. I'm still nursing twice a day, but that stash is being depleted as well, and I think it's a sign that all good things must come to an end eventually. As of tomorrow, she will be getting more formula than breastmilk.

Back in the days of nursing every two to three hours, I wrote many a blog post in my head about how I just didn't love breastfeeding. I never got around to actually typing any of them up, and all the better, since I got over that exhausted, baby tied to my boob, trapped feeling. There were days when I was just trying to convince myself to keep up the nursing for three months, and here we are, going on seven. And now that I've come to the other side, I realize I'm really going to miss it. Not that I want to be one of those people who is nursing a five-year-old (and good Lord I hope I don't offend any of my readers with that comment, because... ew.) But there is something incredibly bonding about nursing. Anyway, sorry. This post has been all poop and boob and probably not what most of you tuned in for, so here's another picture as your reward for sticking through it to the end.