Well, no one said it would be easy. Actually, they said it would be really hard. It's not that hard. It's just that you can't do what you want when you want and you often have to do things you really don't want to do at really inconvenient times.
Alex projectile vomited four times on Saturday, provoking us to take him to the much dreaded emergency room. We figured nothing much would come of it, but felt guilted into doing it anyway because Alex seemed pretty miserable. And we were right. The wonderful doctors at Children's Hospital had little more to offer us that a possible diagnosis of pyloric stenosis, the narrowing of the stomach-small intesting sphincter, that was causing a blockage and offered us the option of waiting another five hours until the ultrasound team showed up at a reasonable hour of the morning. Having only gotten three hours of sleep the day before, we declined the invitation to bed at Hotel Sickness and headed home. A wise decision, no doubt.
Sunday was pleasant, with very little in the way of regurgitation. Sunday night, however, something weird happened. Alex was utterly inconsolable in his quest for more and more food. It was like he was in a competitive drinking contest. In the span of 2 hours, he clocked a quarter of his total daily intake. And he would have eaten more, had we not cut him off. As one of our friends aptly noted, "and thus begins the Kennedy lifelong affair with the bottle."
In an attempt to get the use of both of my hands back, I have started using a sling to hold Alex. My first try is with a Hotsling and, so far, the review is not so great. Alex is only 5 bs, but hardly fits in the sling. Worse, his head keeps slipping out the bottom, requiring constant adjustment, which defeats the purpose.
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