But I have a good reason, I swear. Well, several, in fact. Quick, look at this sweet picture of my husband cuddling with our puppy and playing with the baby boy before I start complaining...
Okay, now. The first reason is that we went to Branson shortly after he turned 3 months. So Guy traveled across state lines for the first time in his short little life. But, since we were camping, there was no wifi to be found, and therefore, no update.
The second reason is that we have experienced a regression. Yes, that's right. After almost two months of agonizingly working to make sure Guy was getting enough to eat, he finally got to where he was an easy baby at home. He would get hungry, I would nurse him, we would be done! Like magic! And then, two weeks ago, I picked him up from daycare, and the gal there said, "He's been fussing a little about eating today."
No big deal, right? I thought it would just be something short-lived. I was sick myself, so I figured he'd maybe picked it up from me and was just having a sore throat or something. So, when he fussed at the breast and the bottle, I chalked it up to illness. But he didn't eat all night, preferring to scream anytime I tried to put breast or bottle in his mouth. He started running a low fever, so I gave him a bit of Tylenol. I barely slept, he barely slept, and I stayed home from work the following day, thinking he was really sick.
Sometimes Guy has to take an extra morning nap with Daddy.
So, we then went into The Weekend That Sleep Forgot. Every feed was a struggle. I ended up spooning milk into his mouth all weekend long, because it was the only way he would eat at all, and even then he was very much against swallowing it. I actually looked forward to Monday, when I would get a break from being the Bad Mommy that tried to force him to swallow when it hurt so bad.
After a week of this, I called the doctor again. I'm not sure how many times I've Googled "White patch on throat" and "Sore in mouth" and "Infant mouth ulcers" at this point. I began treating for thrush, hoping that was it, but to no avail. There was no improvement. We got an immediate appointment with the ENT, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He, after all, was named DR. GUY. Yes, that's right. Dr. Guy was going to know what was wrong with my Guy.
When we saw the doctor, this is the closest approximation I can come up with for his reaction:
"Hm. That's....strange."
Helpful, right? He asked us about all these things, like was Guy intubated at birth? Did we let him fall asleep holding a bottle? (Like he can hold anything to his mouth for an extended period of time anyway.) Did we give him a pacifier a lot?
All the answers were no. Meanwhile, my little heart is just breaking into a thousand pieces. Even the ENT is stumped, and that means there's no clue as to how to proceed. At the end of the appointment, he says it's basically a "flaw" in his palate, and that we just have to wait to see if it will go away. I can give him Tylenol, but there's nothing else for it. So we made an appointment to come back for him to check it in January, but other than that, we're at a loss.
Some days he will eat, but only after a prodigious amount of complaining. Sometimes I can get him to nurse straightaway, but sometimes he'll refuse all together. It's all very difficult. And his sleep has not been regularly good, since he's hungry and not getting everything he needs.
Still, even with all of this, we get some smiles that I take blurry pictures of with my iPhone.
So cross your fingers that it all ends soon. That Guy's poor little mouth heals up, and that we get back to the happy, easy time we managed to find for about two precious weeks. Because I SWEAR, this time I will appreciate it. Scout's honor.
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